True Love Isn't Always Conventional
by Greye
Summary: Harry and Fleur meet during the riotous aftermath of the World Cup. How will this meeting change the course of their lives? This is a Harry/Fleur pairing. Goblet of Fire world, some AU plot, (some non-canon).
1. Meeting Most Dire

**Greye's Notes**: Hey everyone! This is a brand new fanfic by me. I have always shipped Harry and Fleur and thus, I have written a Harry and Fleur fanfic! There are already some wonderful Harry/Fleur fics out there, I know, but there were some things I wanted to see…and so I decided to write my own! If anything I have written is similar to what someone else has, I apologize, that is not my intention—everything I have written here has come from my own mind, and is meant to be original (except for the scenes I've added that did occur in the book, though most of those are altered as well to accommodate my changed storyline). Anyway, if anyone has a problem with something I have written—maybe you think it is too close to what you wrote, or someone else wrote (I have by far not read EVERY Harry/Fleur fic out there!) please PM me and let me know so I can make adjustments, rather than just flaming me.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter! Some of these scenes are written similarly to the book, I know, and those things I do not own! My own characters and scenarios are my own, but J.K. Rowling owns everything else.

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><p>"Boys! Boys, get up! Something's wrong." Harry groggily turned over in his bunk, his mind clinging to a dream about the Quidditch match…instead of Krum, he, Harry, was the Bulgarian Seeker. He groaned as the last vestiges of the dream left him.<p>

"Mr. Weasley?" Harry sat up, his head brushing the tent. Suddenly the sounds outside rushed up to greet him and his eyes widened in alarm. Gone were the sounds of laughter, replaced with terrified screams and explosions. "What's going on?" Mr. Weasley, who was rousing the other boys, shook his head.

"I don't know, there's no time! Get your jacket and go! Don't bother about changing." Harry scrambled out of bed and grabbed his jacket and his wand. He hurried out of the tent behind Mr. Weasley, Ron on his heels, and looked around. Fires burned everywhere, and everywhere there were witches and wizards running and screaming. Children crying, people wailing—mass panic. Harry felt his eyes pulled toward the source, and gasped. A mass of marching witches and wizards was headed their way—the core of them curiously wrapped in dark cloaks with…masks? Harry felt his brow furrow in confusion, until his eyes caught on the floating figures above. Mr. Roberts…the caretaker…and was that…? Harry felt an anger rise in him, a terrible, dreadful rage. Beside him, Ron voiced his thoughts.

"That's…that's…disgusting!" For the other figures were no doubt Mr. Roberts' family, his wife and children being spun about in the air wearing nothing but their night things. All were crying and screaming hysterically, except for the little boy, who seemed to have passed out. Harry turned to move out of the way as Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the tent.

"We're going to join the Ministry, see if we can help." Mr. Weasley explained. All of them were dressed, with their wands out. "You lot get into the trees, now! Stick together. Fred, George, I expect you to keep an eye on your sister!" The twins nodded solemnly, and stood beside their little sister. Ginny rolled her eyes, but Harry could see that she was scared too. "We'll meet you later. Go, go now!" He turned and headed toward the crowd of wizards approaching, Bill, Charlie, and Percy walking with him.

Fred and George led the way into the woods, Ginny between them. Harry, Ron, and Hermione brought up the rear. It was hard to stay close with so many people running around them, pushing, and shoving. And it was dark, even with half the tents in the area on fire. A big tree loomed up, and Harry had to move quickly to avoid running into it. He broke away from Ron and Hermione to go around it on the other side. His foot caught in a root and he went sprawling. "Ack!" He grunted in pain as some other panicked individual trod on him. Groaing slightly, he got up and looked around. "Ron? Hermione?" He turned in a slow circle, but Harry was alone. Harry reached into his pocket and drew out his wand, lighting the tip of it with a muttered word. He would just have to keep going, and hope he found them. Looking around at the people running through the woods around him, he thought he was liable to get trampled if he stayed put too long. Harry hurried through the trees, careful to watch his step this time, all the while looking out for his friends.

_"Pardonnez-moi, avez-vous vu Madame Maxime?" _The polite, if strained, voice stopped Harry in his tracks. He looked around curiously. Harry didn't know much French, but he thought the person was talking to him. He shone his light around, and turned as another wand was lit, illuminating a girl before him. Harry's eyes widened when he saw her—she was breath-takingly beautiful. He had never seen anyone who could compare. She was tall, with long, silvery hair and sapphire eyes he couldn't look away from. Her skin was pale, and flawless, and she looked like she possessed the lithe strength of one of the big cats out of legend. His heart thudded in his chest, and it was all he could do to speak.

"_Je ne parle pas français, désolé." _Harry responded with the only French phrase he knew. "I'm English." He added, as if she couldn't tell by his atrocious accent. The girl smiled at him, which made her more beautiful, if that was possible.

"That iz okay. I know Enlish." Her slightly accented English was beautiful too, Harry thought dreamily. "Are you from 'ogwarts?" Harry nodded, and was snapped from his reverie when he realized her question meant that she was not from Hogwarts. She laughed at his puzzled expression, and he shivered. "I am from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, in France. Madam Maxime is my 'eadmistress…I was just with her." She looked around, blue eyes worried. "If you 'ad seen 'er, you would not 'ave forgotten. She iz a very large woman." Harry wanted to laugh, thinking of Hagrid, who was the biggest person he knew.

"Sorry, no." He said, surprising himself by speaking calmly, despite the screams he could still hear in the distance. "I haven't seen anyone like that. I just got separated from my friends too." He switched his wand to his left hand and stuck out his right. "Let's walk together? Until we find people we know?" The girl hesitantly took his hand in her own, and Harry swallowed, a little overcome by the soft, slim hand that seemed to fit perfectly in his own. He cleared his throat, and let go of her rather quickly. "I'm Harry." He deliberately didn't add his last name, but he saw her eyes flick to his forehead nonetheless. Surprisingly, she didn't comment.

"I am Fleur. Let us go, 'arry. Before we get caught up in something we can't handle." She took a step into the forest, and stumbled back quickly when a man barred her path.

"Oh…" His deep voice responded, "I think you kiddies are definitely caught in something you can't handle." His lank, greasy black hair laid flat against his head, and his sunken eyes looked black in the darkness. He smiled crookedly, and took a step toward Fleur. "Such a pretty little thing…pity to let you go to waste." He reached out to touch Fleur, and Harry stared in horror as his filthy fingers fondled the silvery hair he had just been admiring. For some reason, Fleur seemed frozen. It was then he spotted a second wizard in the trees, mouthing something silent as he held his wand on Fleur. He must have hit her with some kind of binding spell! Harry took an angry step forward, but was brought up short by a hand gripping his shoulder.

"Ah-ah, can't have you interrupting, you little-" Harry didn't give him a chance to finish. He raised his foot and brought the heel down with a resounding crack on the man's instep, and was rewarded with an awful howl of pain. Plenty of practice with Dudley had taught him to follow this move up with an elbow to the face, and Harry was satisfied to feel the man's nose give. He spun around, crying "_Stupefy_!" The man went rigid, and Harry ducked instinctively to avoid a hex that flashed by over his head. He spun to see the man who had just been touching Fleur with his wand raised. Harry made as if to send a curse at him, but changed direction at the last moment and sent his curse flying toward the man still binding Fleur. "_Petrificus Totalus_!" The man locked, the unexpected curse hitting him full on even as the greasy haired man sent a nasty spell at Harry. Harry leapt aside, but felt something slice into his arm. He felt warm blood dripping down to his fingertips, and was glad he had moved when he did. Fleur, now free, immediately hexed the greasy man while his back was turned. She raced towards him and grabbed his arm. Harry winced in pain. "Come on Harry!" She cried, and pulled him along behind her.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!"_ Bellowed the man behind them, and Harry felt his wand leave his hand.

"My wand!" He turned to go back for it, but Fleur's grip on his arm tightened and he gasped in pain.

"Leave it, 'arry! Your neck is worth more than your wand!" Reluctantly, Harry agreed and followed her into the trees.

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><p><strong>Greye's Notes:<strong> Hope this first chapter was alright. There will be more soon, I already have a couple other chapters done—just need to edit them before I put them out.

So thoughts? Did I jump in too quickly here, do you think? I'll admit, I may have been lazy, and just did not feel like writing about the actual Quidditch match. Even so, I think starting where I did was ok. Let me know what you think, please!


	2. Parentage Revealed

**Greye's Notes:** Another chapter! I hope you like this one. Criticism welcome! (Also, please forgive my chapter names and the title. I am not so good with titles! But, I wanted to try doing something other than Chapter 1, Chapter 2, etc.)

Thank you for the reviews I have received thus far! Not all of my chapters will be posted so quickly—I just have some time on my hands right now, and a will to write! As everyone knows, these things do not last! ;)

**Disclaimer: **These characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not to me. No copyright infringement is intended.

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><p>They ran quickly, but carefully, trying hard to get away from the men they hoped weren't following them. Harry didn't have his wand anymore, which left them outclassed, and outnumbered. Harry thought that Fleur was older than him, but that didn't mean she could take on three qualified wizards alone. He winced as she squeezed his arm again.<p>

"Fleur," he panted, reaching up to place a hand over hers, urging it to loosen. "Could I hold your hand instead? You're hurting my arm." Fleur stopped abruptly, and Harry nearly tripped over her. She took her hand from his arm so fast it was like she'd been burned. She brought her lit wand around and looked at the blood staining her hand an arm, mingling with the blood oozing from a cut on her wrist Harry hadn't noticed before. He winced in sympathy, wondering when she'd got that. Fleur raised her wand and studied Harry's arm, the gash was deep, and blood was still flowing. She swallowed, and he thought her face lost a lot of color—though it was hard to tell in the dim light.

"I am…am so…s-sorry, Harry." She managed, her voice shaking slightly. Her eyes were wide, the sapphire depths oddly…fearful? Harry frowned. His wound wasn't that bad.

"It's alright Fleur. You didn't do it, you were just squeezing kind of hard." Fleur took a shuddering breath, and started ripping a strip from her long night shirt. Harry was about to ask what she was doing when she wordlessly starting winding the cloth around is arm, tying it tightly. "Thanks." He said in surprise, still a little confused by her odd reaction. Harry reached out and took her hand in his, careful of the cut on her wrist. "Come on, we'd best keep moving." Fleur only nodded, face still seeming even paler than before, so Harry guided them further into the forest. Fleur kept her wand lit, so they could see their way.

"Harry!" Harry whipped his head around at the familiar voice, and grinned broadly when he saw Ron, and right beside him, Hermione.

"Fleur, these are the friends I got separated from!" Harry led Fleur over to Ron and Hermione, introducing them as we went. "This is Ron, his dad works for our Ministry—I'm sure once this is over, he'll be able to help you find your friends again. And this is Hermione, they're my best mates at school!" Still clutching Fleur's hand, he gestured to her with the other one.

"Ron, Hermione, this is Fleur. I ran into her when we got separated—she's from Beauxbatons, also separated from her friends." Harry didn't get a chance to say more before Hermione gasped. He followed her eyes and stared into the sky. A giant skull was floating in the air, with a snake protruding for a tongue. It was grisly, but Harry was surprised when Fleur suddenly hugged his arm, leaning against him.

"_Mon Dieu…" _She murmured, trembling slightly. Harry felt a sudden surge of protectiveness, and placed his free hand over one of hers. He could feel Ron's questioning eyes on him, and blushed faintly.

"What is it?" Harry asked, mostly to distract himself. Suddenly, there were a serious of pops around them. He heard men's voices around them, shouting angrily to one another. His gaze locked with Ron's. A sudden flash in the air illuminated at least a dozen men around them, all pointing their wands directly at the four teens. Ron grabbed Hermione, and Harry swept an arm around Fleur, dragging her to the ground with him even as a dozen red curses flew over them and past them. They were in big trouble now. Harry felt his heart racing, and he cursed himself for losing his wand.

"STOP! STOP YOU IDIOTS! THAT'S MY DAUGHTER!" A very deep, slightly accented voice thundered through the trees, and Harry stared around in confusion. Daughter? When Fleur's head lifted, he realized who it must be. "_Pere!" _She cried in response, getting up. Harry let her go and she hurried across the clearing, silvery hair streaming behind, to meet her father—a towering man—and hugged him, relief evident upon her features. The man started speaking softly to her in French, and Harry was glad he didn't know what he was saying, not wanting to intrude on the reunion.

"Ron!" Another, much more familiar voice called. Harry turned in relief to see Mr. Weasley vaulting the bushes towards them. "Harry, Hermione! Thank heavens you're all alright!" He pulled Ron into a hug, which so shocked the redhead that it was all Harry could do not to laugh. He glanced at Hermione and shared a knowing grin with her. For all that Ron blustered about his family, he really did have a great one.

"Augh, I'm alright dad. We're all fine." Mr. Weasley reluctantly let go of Ron, keeping a firm hand on his shoulder. Ron's face was pink, and he refused to meet Harry or Hermione's eyes.

"Fine, are you? Well, that's just dandy! Now which one of you hooligans conjured the Mark?!" A man intruded on the reunion, and Harry recognized him as Amos Diggory—Cedric's father. They had met at the Portkey before the cup. Harry was taken aback by Mr. Diggory's vehemence, and just stared at him. Mr. Weasley, however, stepped forward angrily, his face was scarlet.

"Are you accusing my son or one of his friends of doing this, Diggory?" Now it was Mr. Diggory's turn to be shocked, and he took a step back in dismay. "For god sakes man, that right there is Harry Potter! What are you thinking?" Diggory shook his head, suddenly uncertain.

"Well…I.." Just then, a rustling in the bushes beside them made them all jump. Harry could see Fleur pulling her father over to the rest of them out of the corner of his eye, but his attention was fixed on the bush. Mr. Weasley had already trained his wand on the bush, and spoke in the most authoritative voice Harry had ever heard from him.

"Out of there, you! Or I'll send a hex in there after you." The bush quivered violently, and out stepped a trembling house elf. Harry stared.

"Winky! Wha-" Harry was lost for words. Here was the elf who had so obediently saved a seat for Mr. Crouch at the cup. His eyes drifted down to her little hand, clutching a wand. Harry's eyes widened. "Hey! That's my wand!" He made to take it from her, but Mr. Diggory was immediately in his path.

"Watch it there boy! I think we've all just heard a confession!" Mr. Diggory took the wand from Winky and flourished it triumphantly. "I think we can all see what's happened here!" A sharp crack in the air announced a new arrival, and Mr. Crouch himself was on the scene.

"What is going on here, Diggory? Have you apprehended the culprit?" Mr. Crouch, despite the night's disturbances, was still as impeccably dressed as ever, not a hair of his mustache was out of place as he stared down Amos Diggory.

For his part, Mr. Diggory grabbed Winky by the arm and pulled her forward. "It seems Potter here gave this elf his wand, and made her conjure the Dark Mark! He's just admitted to this being his wand, and to knowing this elf personally!" Harry was thunderstruck. What on earth was he talking about? Mr. Weasley looked equally shocked, and Ron and Hermione were outraged. Before Mr. Crouch could respond, Fleur broke away from her father, despite his protest, and moved to stand beside Harry.

"Please sir, 'arry did not do zis." Harry could tell Fleur was agitated. He wasn't sure how he knew, since she seemed calm and determined, but something in the set of her shoulders, and the timbre of her voice, gave it away. He reached out and subtly took her hand, giving it a squeeze of gratitude. Fleur flinched slightly at the contact, but allowed him to hold her hand. "'e was with me before and after ze Mark was in ze sky." She glanced at her father briefly, before continuing. Mr. Diggory seemed content to hear her out, which surprised Harry. He took another look at her father, wondering if there was some significance there.

"We both were separated from our groups, and came across each other in ze woods. We were attacked by three men." Fleur paused, remembering no doubt how close a call that had been. Harry squeezed her hand again. "We 'elped each other, and got away. When we ran, a man shouted at us and disarmed 'arry—I was wiz 'im when 'e lost iz wand. It was not iz fault." Fleur finished, and Harry turned to look at Mr. Crouch and Mr. Diggory, both who seemed to be ruminating over this information. Mr. Crouch took a step forward, and spotted Winky, instantly recognizing her. He seemed staggered.

"Winky!" The elf was obviously terrified, and prostrated herself on the ground at his feet.

"Master! Winky is sorry! Winky is sorry! Winky saw the bad men coming, and ran to get out of their way!" Mr. Crouch's face was suddenly cold.

"I have no use for a disobedient servant. You have brought shame upon me." Harry could feel Hermione winding up beside him, but Ron placed a hand on her shoulder, warning her not to intervene. Surprisingly, she subsided.

"Mr. Crouch!" Said Amos Diggory in surprise. "This elf belongs to you?" Mr. Crouch nodded shortly.

"Yes. And while displeased with her behavior, I can attest that it is not my practice to teach my servants Dark Magic." Diggory straightened up, as though realizing how close he had been to accusing Mr. Crouch of something. "Winky, give me Harry's wand." Winky immediately offered it to him, and Mr. Crouch took it, touching it to the tip of his own and muttering a quiet spell. There appeared, from the end of Harry's wand, a ghost of the image still in the sky. Mr. Crouch nodded to himself. "Harry's wand was definitely used in the conjuring. Whoever did it has likely left by now…I will question my elf closely, and find out what she knows. In the meantime!" Everyone snapped to attention. "Miss Delacour, and Mr. Potter. I will expect to see you both at the Ministry first thing tomorrow to give detailed descriptions of these men you say attacked you." Mr. Crouch turned and bowed to Fleur's father. "I hope this will not create an inconvenience, Minister Delacour. But we need to apprehend these criminals immediately. They may have had something to do with the trouble tonight." Harry swallowed hard as he stared at the tall man, Fleur's father. Unintentionally, his hand tightened around Fleur's. He heard Ron and Hermione's intake of breath beside him. Fleur's father was the French Minister for Magic!

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><p><strong>Greye's Notes:<strong> I know, I know! Making Fleur's father the Minister was maybe a little cliché, but I did it so Harry could get something cool! Which you'll see in the next chapter ;)

Fleur's father does not speak in as much of an accent as Fleur, because he has many years experience speaking English. (Had a question about that) Also, I will probably not write in Fleur's vernacular all the time, because it's time consuming for me and takes away from my story-thinking skills. But I shall do my best! My thought is, her accent will lessen over time-she will be spending the better part of a year in England, after all.

Again, please let me know what you liked and didn't like. Anything is welcome. Anyhow, I hope you guys did like it. I will continue on to the next chapter!

On a side note, I do not know French. Like, at all. So please, if I mess up a French phrase or word, forgive me. The French I use in this fic is taken partly from google translate, and partly from a friend of mine who did take French. Hopefully, between the two, I haven't botched anything too badly. There won't be a whole lot of French in this fic, but it will appear occasionally (since Fleur is French!). If I mess something up awfully, and you know how to fix it, please let me know and I'll take care of it!


	3. A Veela is Bound

**Greye's Notes:** Here is Chapter 3! Thank you all so much for the reviews! This chapter is a little longer than my previous chapters. It has been requested that my chapters be longer, and I will do my best to oblige! (Also, to those of you who made shrewd guesses as to the direction of this fic, kudos!)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters that appear in my fic! (Except for any non-canon ones I might throw in there!) All of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

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><p>Harry leaned back on his bed in Ron's room, staring up at the ceiling. He could hear Ron, Fred, and George snoring peacefully around him. He hadn't been able to fall asleep yet. The events of the day were too vivid in his mind to allow him to sleep. Especially…especially her. Fleur. Fleur Delacour. Even her name was beautiful. He sighed. She had risen magnificently to his defense about the Dark Mark (which Hermione had finally explained was the sign of Voldemort and his followers—her and Fleur's reactions to it now made sense), and then it had been revealed that her father was the French Minister for Magic. Which was probably why Diggory, and even Crouch, had listened to what she had to say without immediately shouting her down. Thankfully, her word had been accepted (probably backed up by the hulking presence of her father in the background). Then Fleur had introduced them.<p>

"_'arry, this is my Father, Jefferoi Delacour." Her musical voice had said. "Papa, this is 'arry Potter. 'e iz the one who saved my life." Harry flushed deep red at that and quickly protested as the large, dark haired and dark-eyed man had turned to look at him._

_ "Oh no sir, it wasn't like that at all. Fleur and I escaped together, that's all. It was luck, really." Harry said, just managing not to stutter. The man had raised one big, bushy brow._

_ "You are telling me, that my daughter lies?" his deep voice rumbled. Harry stared at him in horror, not noticing the amused look on Fleur's face beside him, as she covered her mouth. He started backtracking._

_ "N-no sir! N-never! T-that's not what I—" A big hand clamped onto his shoulder, and Harry found himself looking up into two dark, mirth-filled eyes._

_ "I know, I know. I was just 'aving a laugh, my boy." His eyes became serious. "But I do want to thank you for helping my Fleur. She has told me what happened, and I am certain that, without your assistance, she would have had much worse trouble." Harry remained silent, unsure how to respond. "Please know, young 'arry. If ever you have need of help, you will always find it in France." The French Minister then slipped a small card into his hand. "Show this card to any French witch or wizard, and they will help you." Harry stared at the card. It was blank. The Minister laughed at Harry's puzzled expression. "It is coded to you, so that no one else may use it. Tap it with your wand, and whisper, Revelio." Harry did as instructed, and watched as words scrolled across the card, first in French, and then in English._

**The bearer of this card has performed a great service for France, and is thus entitled to aid such as is within the power of the person asked for assistance. Any outstanding costs should be forwarded to the French Ministry.**

_ "Sir…I…I don't know what to say." Harry stared at Fleur for a moment, and then at her father in awe. A gift like this was priceless. Harry didn't know what he would ever use it for, but he had never received anything so generous._

_ "Say nothing," Fleur's father responded, "Or say thank-you. Use it, or don't. I am just grateful that my daughter is safe." He then left Fleur and Harry to themselves for a moment, and Harry found himself speechless before the beautiful girl. Fleur seemed to understand, and took one of his hands with a smile._

_ "'arry, I am glad that we met, even under such dire circumstances. We may see each other tomorrow. Until then, please take care." Harry watched as if in a trance as Fleur leaned in slowly, and placed a light kiss on his cheek. She stayed close to whisper quietly in his ear. "If anything…strange…begins to happen, please write to me at once." She pulled back, and he could see the worry in her eyes. Harry wasn't sure what she was talking about, but he nodded anyway, still unable to speak, and watched as she walked away with her father, arm in arm._

_ Ron's voice behind him broke the spell. "Blimey. She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. How'd you get so lucky, Harry?" A rather loud smack followed this statement, and Harry smiled, turning around toward his friends. "Oy!" Shouted Ron indignantly. "What was that for, Hermione?" Hermione, for her part, was walking back to the campsite with her arms folded over her chest. Harry thought he heard her mutter something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Boys"._

Harry stared at the ceiling, thinking of the kiss he had received from the most beautiful girl in the world. A girl who had trembled to see the Dark Mark…but had also stood up in determined defense of him in front of some of the most powerful men in Britain. They would probably see each other at the Ministry tomorrow morning, he thought. His heart gave a funny leap in his chest, and he turned over on his side, closing his eyes. The sooner he fell asleep, he thought, the sooner he would get to see Fleur again…

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><p>~Switching POV—Fleur~<p>

Fleur sighed. "I am fine, Papa. Really, I am." She watched in exasperation as her father paced back and forth before their fireplace. Fleur had learned side-along Apparition last year, and so it was a simple matter for she and her father to get home. No need to stay overnight in England. Fleur leaned back on the sofa. "The only hurt I received is this cut, on my wrist." Fleur had long since been cleaned up—and was now comfortably in her pajamas, her silvery blonde hair fixed in a braid for bed. Jefferoi Delacour stopped for a moment, tapping his foot in agitation, before coming to sit beside Fleur. The serious look on his face made her nervous, and she sat up straight.

"Fleur, my daughter…how can you be so calm? If young Harry had not been with you…you might not have escaped those men!" Jefferoi shuddered, and Fleur knew he was imagining what might have happened to her. Remembering a similar incident not so long ago…that had not ended quite so well. Those were thoughts that had been tormenting her all night as well—a fact that she would not reveal to her papa. Being a quarter Veela brought with it many dangers—something her father did not need further reminding of.

"Papa, I am ok. Harry was there to help me." Really, she was frustrated she had allowed one of those men to get the drop on her with a binding spell anyway. That was embarrassing in and of itself. She was a sixth year at Beauxbatons, and should have been able to defend herself better. There was a matter that was worrying her more, however. "Papa, there is something I did not tell you, before." Jefferoi lifted his face with a frown. Fleur was nervous, shifting her weight uncomfortably on the couch. The silence stretched as Fleur struggled to find the words to explain what she feared had happened. Jefferoi took her silence to mean something else. He surged to his feet, his face livid. Fleur sat back in sudden shock at this change.

"You mean to say…that something _did _happen to you? But you said those men didn't…" His dark eyes widened, and became something terrible to behold. "Did _Harry Potter_ touch you?" he roared, fists balled at his sides. "If that little _rat_…and I _gave _him…" Fleur stared at her father in shock, she couldn't remember the last time she had seen him in such fury. It took her a minute to find her tongue.

"Papa, _no._ Harry didn't touch me at all! He wouldn't do that!" Except when he had taken her hand, she thought to herself privately. She remembered how strong and sure his hand had felt around hers. Her heart gave a little jump. Fleur mastered herself and met her father's eyes. "That is not what I was going to say." Some of the wind went out of his sails at this, and he sank back onto the couch.

"Then what?" he asked, much more subdued. His dark eyes held nothing but concern, and finally Fleur was able to speak.

"I think…I think we may have become Bound. An…an inadvertent Binding Ceremony may have taken place…" Fleur shifted uncomfortably. Fleur was only a quarter Veela, but it was enough. When a Veela marries another person, be they wizard, Muggle, or anything else, a Binding Ceremony takes place during the marriage. Jefferoi's eyes widened as he stared at Fleur. Typically, a small cut was made to the hand of the Veela, and the hand of the partner, then their hands were pressed together to allow their blood to mingle. This would bind the two people together for life. The Veela, because it is a part of her nature and her blood. The partner, because now a little blood from their Veela partner is running in their veins, keeping their promise. Overtime, changes would occur in each partner, as some of each person's attributes become apparent in the other. The most important aspect of the binding, however, was the ever growing sense of the bound partner. In time, two people would be able to feel each other, wherever they were.

"Explain to me what happened." Jefferoi said weakly. Fleur shifted under his gaze. "It wasn't just blood, was it?" he asked, but Fleur shook her head.

"Father…when I was with Harry, a flying curse caught my arm, leaving a small cut on my wrist. Harry was hit by a similar spell, which sliced into his arm, causing a lot of bleeding. We had only just escaped from the men trying to…trying to…" Fleur shook her head. "I had taken him by the arm, and he lost his wand—he wanted to go back for it, but I kept him with me. I was holding his bleeding arm, with my bleeding arm…" She took a breath, remembering what had happened. "My heart was racing, and we were running as fast as we could. I could hear Harry breathing hard beside me, and I knew he was just as scared as I was. He asked me to stop, because I was hurting his injured arm. That was when I realized…" Fleur stopped and looked away, feeling upset. She felt her father take her hand in one of his own.

"Fleur," he said gently, "That does not mean you are Bound. Blood alone doesn't do it, or else Veela could become bound to anyone. There must also be feeling—great feelings. Usually love? I cannot imagine that you love this boy already, nor he you." Fleur wasn't sure why those words somewhat bothered her.

"But Papa, the feeling does not have to be love, either. Or else Veela would only marry their true love. Great hate, can do it too. Look at grandmother. She was bound to her husband, even though she hated him…because she hated him." Her voice trailed off as she stared at the crackling fire. Jefferoi frowned, smoothing his fingers over her hand.

"I did not get the impression that you hated this boy either…and I can tell that he did not hate you." Jefferoi spoke quietly, reassuringly. Fleur wanted to be reassured, but she couldn't ignore this either. She met Jefferoi's eyes then, her own sapphire depths gleaming.

She gathered her courage to speak again, "Great love, and great hate…they are not the only feelings that can be great. Fear…fear fed by adrenaline…can also be great. And I fear that now, I am Bound to Harry Potter." Fleur got up, letting her hand slip out of her father's. "I don't know how to tell him that this thing has happened…that his fate is sealed. We do not have to be together…but I do not think it possible for either of us to ever be happy with anyone else." Fleur wrapped her arms around herself and bowed her head for a moment, letting the warmth of the fire comfort her. "I am going to bed, Papa. We must be up early to go to the English Ministry." Her father didn't respond as she left the room, heading up to her bedroom.

When Fleur pushed open her door, the first thing she saw was her mother, sitting on her bed. "Maman…" she said in surprise. "You should not be out of bed…" Her mother, Apolline Delacour, had been very sick the last year. The healers had told them to keep her in her room as much as possible, and not to overexcite her. Fleur quickly crossed the room and sat next to her mother, taking her frail hands as she did so. She had not told her mother of her troubles, not wanting to worry her.

Apolline smiled at Fleur gently. "My daughter…a mother knows when her daughter has been Bound." She freed a hand from Fleur and pressed it against her chest. "We feel it, here, when our daughter has found someone, and no longer needs us." Fleur swallowed, her throat thick. Apolline urged her to explain, "Fleur, tell me of this boy? Does he love you? He must, you know, for the bond to have worked." When Fleur still couldn't speak, Apolline frowned. "Or, perhaps it is a girl? A little unconventional, but that is okay too." Fleur choked out a laugh and shook her head.

"No Maman, it is a boy. I'm glad to know it wouldn't have mattered to you, though." Fleur laughed, despite herself. "Does he love me?" she whispered, half to herself. Fleur felt ravaged inside. Harry couldn't possibly love her. Not now, anyway. And definitely not when he found out what had happened. She had effectively taken away his future. Fleur felt a tear slip down her cheek, and then another. Her mother must have been confused by this reaction, but she pulled Fleur into her arms and rocked her as gently as she had when Fleur had been a small child.

"Oh, _ma fille_," she crooned. "Tell Maman what has happened." Fleur spoke in choking sobs, explaining the chaos after the Cup, and the men who had attacked her and Harry…and the blood, all the blood.

"Maman, you told me. You told me almost any great emotion would do—Love, Hate…and Fear. I never understood the fear until now. He doesn't know, Maman! He doesn't know! How do I tell him?" She cried as she had not cried since she was very small. "He will hate me." Fleur could feel her heart breaking inside for this boy she didn't even know.

Apolline's soothing voice cut through Fleur's crying as she rested a hand on her head. "My dear, I cannot tell you what to do. But you should know, that fate has a funny way of working things out. Be honest with him. Your heart is so full of love, Fleur. I know this was not how you expected to spend it, but give this a chance. You must." Fleur let her mother put her to bed then. Something she would never have allowed normally. It was comforting, feeling her mother's soft hand on her head, stroking her hair. It calmed her as effectively as it had when she had been a small child. The tears slowly stopped as her mother continued stroking her hair, whispering comforting things. Fleur's last thought before sleeping was of a black haired boy, with eyes greener than grass.

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><p><strong>Greye's Notes:<strong> Hey guys! The end of another chapter. I wanted to get a little perspective from Fleur, and thought you guys might like some too! So what do you think? Great love, arriving from great fear?

Please let me know what you think! Questions, criticisms, comments, all are welcome!


	4. Almost

**Greye's Notes: **Okay! I hope that you enjoyed getting to know Fleur a little more last chapter. I will be showing more of Fleur and Harry respectively as we go. Please enjoy chapter 4! And thanks to **Kairan1979** for the Penseive idea—that hadn't been where I planned to take it, but it gave me a better idea. I'm always open to ideas/comments about the story! Also, thank you to all of you who have reviewed, favorited, and followed this story! I am really surprised at the numbers I'm seeing. I sure hope I continue to earn your support!

I would also like to thank Moon's Lullaby, my dear sister and somewhat unofficial beta for this chapter. She's written some good stuff too, so you guys might check her out.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters therein—those belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Further Disclaimer:** Some things may be a little AU from here on out. I like to stretch things a little, so please don't expect everything to be completely by the book. Just a warning! On another note, I don't intend to do much in the way of bashing in this fic. I happen to like the Weasleys, for the most part. Angst, you may well see, but I don't plan on bashing anyone. If I do, I'll add a little something to the disclaimer as a warning.

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><p>"Alright there Harry?" asked Mr. Weasley, as he and Harry stepped out of one of the fireplaces at the Ministry. Harry's jaw had dropped when he saw the vastness of the entryway—all the fireplaces lining the walls, and the incredible numbers of witches and wizards streaming every which way…hundreds! Harry supposed this shouldn't come as so much of a shock, seeing as he had just attended the Quidditch World Cup, which had hosted 100,000 witches and wizards…but that had been people from all over the world. This…these people were mostly English, as far as he could tell. It was hard to believe there were so many witches and wizards just in Britain. Dimly, Harry remembered that Mr. Weasley had been speaking to him.<p>

"Er—yes, sorry Mr. Weasley." Harry managed finally, sheepishly. He had been feeling strangely down all morning—a feeling he couldn't manage to shake off. Arriving at the Ministry and being shocked by a sight he had not expected had the effect of snapping him out of it. Mr. Weasley clapped him on the shoulder and laughed. Harry smiled weakly, relieved that he had managed to throw off his bad mood.

"Yes, the Ministry can seem a bit daunting at first. I had forgotten this would be your first time here. Come then, we've got to get you over to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Only a trained Hit Wizard or Inquisitor is allowed to review the contents of a Pensieve." Mr. Weasley spoke quickly, drawing Harry over to the security station. Harry felt numb as Mr. Weasley drew him through security, and onwards to the elevators. He wasn't paying attention when Mr. Weasley hit the level two button, or started talking to him about what to say and do. It was a strange feeling, almost like he was only half there. The other half of him…he wasn't sure where it was. Ordinarily, a dim part of his mind was trying to tell him, he would want to pay attention. What was a Hit Wizard? An Inquisitor? What did they do? What was a Pensieve? These were all things Harry was unsure about, and things he would ordinarily have wanted to know. Mr. Weasley must have noticed the glassy look in his eyes, because he stopped talking, and simply guided Harry silently from office to office until he found the one he wanted. "Ah," said Mr. Weasley, breaking into Harry's thoughts, "Here we are. Office of Hit Wizard Sean Allan. He's on the payroll as a hit wizard, but he specializes in memory work. Come on then." Harry's heart sped up as, even before Mr. Weasley opened the door, he realized that the other part of himself he had been missing was about to be restored. The world fell back into place around him as he came face to face with Fleur Delacour.

Her silvery hair was as beautiful as ever, and her sapphire eyes drew him into the room. He felt an immense relief, being in her presence. It was so odd, and yet Harry felt more alive now than he had all morning. He suddenly became intensely aware of his own messy, shaggy black hair, the worn-out jeans and converse he had on. The only thing he was wearing of any redeemable quality was the hand-knit green sweater Mrs. Weasley had given him for Christmas last year. He was fervently glad he hadn't gone for the old Chudley Cannons t-shirt he had been eyeing. He swallowed. "H-hi." He managed weakly. With a start, he realized that there was another person in the room. Harry flushed, jerking his eyes painfully away from Fleur's and looking at an unfamiliar man. "H-hello sir. You must be Mr. Allan?" Behind the desk sat a tall, extremely thin man with a hooked nose and the beginnings of white feathering through his mousy brown hair. He wore a small pair of spectacles that rested too far down his nose to do any good, Harry thought, but he was also smiling. This last Harry took for a good sign.

"Well, I'll just leave you lot to it then. Harry, if you need me, I'll be just down the hall." Mr. Weasley nodded to Mr. Allan, and backed out of the room. Harry guessed it was just going to be him, Fleur, and this wizard Allan. Hesitantly, he took the seat next to Fleur. She offered him a tentative smile, and Harry felt his heart skip in his chest. She was so beautiful and…as he had seen the previous night, she was powerful. Harry knew he was beyond attracted to Fleur, and he also knew that nothing could ever work out between them. She was two years older, almost certainly, and she was way too…well…Fleur…to be with him. And she lived in France. Hadn't someone once told him that long distance never worked? Wait. Maybe that was a Muggle saying. God or gods above, Harry hoped it was a Muggle saying.

Harry had liked girls before. In his last year at Hogwarts in particular he had positively flushed every time Cho Chang of Ravenclaw passed him in the corridors. Cho was very pretty, and so were the few other girls that had caught Harry's eye…but there was something about Fleur. A kind of…magnetism. He wanted to look at her forever. Harry flushed at the thought, embarrassed at his own stupidity. He hurriedly turned back around to Wizard Allan, over focusing on the man in his attempt not to over focus on Fleur.

Allan, for his part, was evidently finishing some paperwork. The silence stretched for a minute, two, and then—"Ok. All done. Now we get to the fun part." He gestured to a large, silver basin sitting on the desk in front of him. Harry's eyes latched onto it; somehow he hadn't noticed it upon entering. "This is a Pensieve, in case you weren't aware. We are going to take the memories you have from the night after the Cup and view them here, to corroborate your story about being attacked." Harry bristled, his interest in the Pensieve gone. His green eyes flashed as he looked at the man behind the desk.

"Our 'story'?" he grated. "Why would we make something like that up?" Harry knew he was being irrationally angry, but his sudden confusion over Fleur, combined with the stress of the previous evening, was beginning to build up. A soft hand suddenly gripped his, and Harry looked down in surprise to see Fleur's hand there. He forced himself to relax. Sean Allan, for his part, didn't seem perturbed. Which just irritated Harry further. As if she could sense this, Fleur tightened her grip on Harry's hand, and again Harry took a moment to breathe. "Fine. Let's get on with it then." he managed. Harry knew he was being childish, but he hated being called a liar. Even if that wasn't precisely what Allan had intended. Allan nodded and drew his wand from his pocket.

"Now, all I want you to do is touch your wand to your temple, like this…" Alan touched his wand tip to his own temple to illustrate, "then bring up the memory you want, and whisper '_extractum'._ Then the memory will adhere to your wand, and you can cast it into the Pensieve. Miss Delacour, how about you first?" Harry had a feeling that Fleur already knew how to do this, because it only took her a moment to pull a silvery substance from her head. For a moment, Harry thought it was some of her hair, so similar were the colors. With a wave of her wand, Fleur released the memory into the Pensieve. "Excellent. Now we all need only lean into the swirling mass in the center, and we will be transported into Miss Delacour's memory. Shall we?" The wizard gestured for Harry to go first. With an apprehensive look at Fleur, Harry stood, and leaned into the Pensieve…and suddenly he was falling. Harry sucked in a fearful breath just as he was deposited safely on the ground. He straightened up just as Fleur and the ministry wizard joined him. They had arrived just as Harry and Fleur were running into the bad men. Fleur started explaining what was happening to the other wizard, but Harry could do nothing but watch in awe. It was as if they were actually there, in the moment again! He stared in fascination at himself. His fascination quickly turned into renewed horror as he watched the events unfold. He remembered his fear, and his anger. Two emotions that had been strong in him that night. Turning, he sought out present-day Fleur, and moved to stand next to her. He saw her wince when the greasy man approached her memory-self. Impulsively, Harry took her hand. Fleur shifted her weight so she was shoulder to shoulder with Harry. It didn't seem to matter that Fleur was a little taller than him. Holding her soft hand send a thrum through Harry that made him feel seven feet tall. He smiled slightly, despite the disturbing events unfolding before them. He was happy to be able to offer Fleur a little reassurance. The hit wizard wasn't paying them any mind as he took notes on what he saw, and made very detailed sketches of the men. Harry spoke quietly to her when he felt a tremor pass through her.

"They're all gone now, you know. Chances are, we won't ever see them again." his voice was low, not wanting to attract unwanted attention. Harry felt rather than saw Fleur smile.

"I know. It iz just not fun to see zem again…even in memory. Thank you for coming, 'arry. It would 'ave been…difficult without you." Harry flushed slightly.

"Oh, here we run now. We should keep following Mr. Allan." Harry murmured. He walked after the other man, still holding tight to Fleur's hand. They made it just in time to see Harry get disarmed, and Fleur urge him to keep moving. Suddenly, memory Harry and Fleur stopped. Harry couldn't hear what they were saying, but he remembered what had happened the previous night.

"Fleur," Harry said, "Why _did_ you apologize so much to me right then?" Harry held out his injured arm, pulling back the sleeve of his sweater just enough to reveal the white bandage beneath. He hadn't wanted to bother Mrs. Weasley about it, and so had had Hermione stitch it up for him. Having dentists for parents came in handy sometimes. "The wound really wasn't that bad…and you certainly weren't the cause of it." Harry felt Fleur freeze up beside him and frowned. He was even more alarmed when Fleur carefully took her hand back from him.

"'arry, zere is something I need to tell you…" Fleur whispered. Right then, Allan popped back up.

"Sorry you kids! It seems Miss Delacour was telling the truth about the night's escapades. Now it's time to check Harry's memory." said Allan, with way too much enthusiasm. Before Harry had a chance to say anything, he felt a nauseating pull and found himself falling up and up, back out of the Pensieve.

Harry blinked, and the room swirled around him. Dazedly, he realized they were all back in Allan's office. He was sitting in the chair, like he'd never left. Harry struggled to shake off the nauseous feeling. He felt a light touch to his knee, and turned to see Fleur sitting beside him looking concerned and not at all nauseous. Allan broke in.

"Ah yes," he said apologetically, "Didn't think to warn you. Your first time in a Pensieve can leave the brains a bit scrambled. I'll just give you a minute, shall I?" Allan got to his feet, and Harry turned to look at him in confusion. "I'll be back in a few minutes," said Allan, "I just want to get these sketches over to Mr. Crouch. I have little doubt that your memory Harry, will be the same. When I get back, we will check for sure." Before Harry could find his tongue to respond, the older wizard was gone. Leaving him alone. With Fleur.

If Harry's brains weren't scrambled before, they were now.

Fleur got up, and walked around until she was in front of Harry, leaning against the desk. "'arry, you are making me feel ill. I am going to 'elp you now…hold still." Her quiet voice sent a shiver through him, even in his somewhat addled state. He didn't fully register her words, because soon she had placed a cool hand to either side of his face and leaned in close. Harry found himself drawn to Fleur's sapphire eyes. He gazed deeply, reading her concern…and her fear. He wondered what she was so afraid of, and wished she would tell him so he could take the fear away. Dimly he heard her murmur something, but he was too engrossed with the beautiful blue of her eyes to catch the words she spoke.

All at once it felt like a bucket of cold water had crashed over him. Harry straightened in his seat abruptly and his green eyes widened as the fog in his mind cleared. He stared at Fleur, who was still touching his face. She was staring at him with such an odd expression, Harry didn't know what to think. He reached up and gently took her hands in his own, bringing them down from his face. He whispered, "Fleur?", half afraid to break her trance. Fleur closed her eyes in response and took in a breath. As she did so, Harry remembered what she had said to him before they were pulled out of the Pensieve. "Fleur." He tried again, and at last Fleur opened her eyes and tentatively met Harry's. He held her gaze silently for a moment. "What did you want to tell me?"

Fleur took a deep breath. She did not want to tell him, but he had a right to know. "'arry…you know I 'ave Veela blood in my veins, yes?" She did not wait for a response, but plunged ahead. "I do not know what you know of Veelas…but the blood of a Veela has special properties. My blood has special properties…" Harry tried to interject, but Fleur held up a hand. He could see she was determined to get this out, all in one go, and so he fell silent. Fleur took a steadying breath. She wasn't sure where exactly to proceed. It was suddenly more difficult than she had anticipated, trying to explain pretty much her own existence to a boy who knew nothing of Veela. "The strength of the original Veela matriarch, in zis case my grandmother, and the strength of the blood in a descendant—which iz really something only chance dictates—certain…abilities…become possible. Not every Veela 'as the same…magic?" Fleur paused, scrunching her nose cutely as she tried to think of a better way to phrase it. "It iz like wizards…witches and wizards excel in different things…yes? It iz the same with Veela. Sometimes these abilities get passed down to 'alf blood or, in my case, quarter blood descendants." Fleur's voice trailed off as she looked at Harry, to see if he was following. His green eyes seemed a little puzzled at this information, but he didn't seem confused. She continued. "One trait is the same in all Veela, and in all Veela descendants, however…" she took a breath, this was it, "and that is-" The door crashed open and Sean Allan, Hitwizard, sauntered back into the room. Fleur broke off, startled. Harry had leapt to his feet at this sudden intrusion, his wand half drawn. Allan had the decency to look sheepish.

"Sorry for the scare there, kiddos. Didn't mean to slam the door open." His voice was apologetic, and Harry started to relax. He glanced back at Fleur, and could see the frustration on her face. He felt that frustration himself. She had been about to tell him something, something he knew was very important. He suppressed a groan and sat back in his chair, Fleur settling beside him, as Allan came back around his desk. He pushed the Pensieve forward and looked at Harry expectantly. Harry let out a resigned breath and brought his wand to his temple, as he had seen Fleur do.

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><p><strong>Greye's Notes:<strong> Ok! So that was mean…but I couldn't have Fleur explaining quite everything all at once! Best to draw it out, don't you think? I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I put a little touchy-feely Harry/Fleur in there for you—just something to whet your appetites. Also, let me know if anything's confusing about what Fleur is telling Harry. I'll try to clear up any misunderstandings in the next chapter.

**P.S.-** Did anyone see that interview with J.K. Rowling recently? Evidently, Harry and Hermione were supposed to end up together. Interesting, eh? Thoughts anyone?


	5. The Big Reveal

**Greye's Notes:** Thank you to all of you who graciously reviewed my last chapter! Thanks again to **Moon's Lullaby** for checking my work ahead of time, on the look-out for major gaffs. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

A note on chapter length. At this time, I am writing as much as I can. I end the chapters where they seem to come to a natural close for me. In time I may be able to write longer chapters, but the length probably won't vary a whole lot. I am not completely happy with this chapter, but I think it accomplishes what I intended.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything Harry Potter! That's J.K. Rowling's schtick.

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><p>Harry took a seat next to Fleur on the bench outside Mr. Allan's office, listening absent-mindedly as the older man thanked them for their time before bustling off to speak to Mr. Crouch. As expected, Harry's memory had been the same as Fleur's. Mr. Allan had gotten some truly "topper" sketches, and asked them to wait outside his office for their guardians to pick them up. Harry thought about that.<p>

Mr. Weasley, he guessed, was his unofficial guardian for now. The thought made him happy, and a little sad. Happy, because he was away from the Dursley's, and the Weasleys were really very kind to him. Sad, because he wished he were with Sirius. Harry quickly banished that thought. He certainly did not wish Sirius were here right now, he told himself sternly. He didn't want there to be any chance his godfather would go back to Azkaban prison. He wished he had never sent a letter to him about his scar.

Hermione and Ron had seemed to agree that it was the right thing to do, but Harry still worried about his godfather. His thoughts turned to the events at the Cup then—which he was sure Sirius had heard about by now—and to Fleur. He had gathered from her that she was part Veela but, even with her descriptions, he wasn't sure he really understood the significance of that.

Hermione had told him a little about Veela before the Quidditch match, since they were the Bulgarian mascot, but that had been decidedly little. Mostly that they weren't native to Britain, and were known for having a very intense effect on men in particular. He had experienced that first hand when the Veela had appeared on the field; they had been women so ethereally beautiful and so alluring that Harry had found himself wanting to do something spectacular just to gain their attention. It was a good thing his own attention had been diverted, or else he might have jumped right out of the top box. Fleur didn't have that effect on him though, beautiful as she was. At least, she hadn't yet.

Harry was so lost in thought, he nearly jumped a foot when Fleur touched his arm.

Fleur jerked her arm back as if scalded, cheeks flushing uncomfortably. "Oh, I am sorry 'arry, I did not mean to startle you." Her voice was quiet, and tense, her blue eyes glancing around to make sure they were unheard. Harry kicked himself for reacting like he had. He waited until she looked at him again.

"No Fleur, I overreacted. Too lost in my own thoughts." He laughed half-heartedly. His thoughts drifted back to the conversation they had been having before Mr. Allan had interrupted them. She had been telling him about Veela.

"Fleur," his voice was hesitant, his green eyes looking at her intently. "What were you going to say, before Allan came back? What is the one trait that all Veela share?" Fleur wouldn't meet his eyes for a minute. This must be really hard for her, Harry thought. She seemed almost afraid to tell him…but how could someone this beautiful, and powerful, be even a little afraid of a scrawny runt like him?

"Fleur," he said again, "Whatever it is, I mean, you barely know me. You don't have to tell me anything." He shrugged self-consciously. "I'm kind of surprised you're talking to me at all." That seemed to snap Fleur out of it. She whipped her head around to glare at him, blue eyes fierce.

"Now don't you start!" Her voice cracked a little. She was angry. "What I look like 'as nothing to do with zis!" Her eyes narrowed to slits and she spoke heatedly to Harry, "My entire life 'as been like a show. The descendants of Veela are, without exception, "beautiful"." Fleur sneered the last word, using air quotes to further show her disdain.

"This "beauty"," she maintained, "iz a curse more often than not, acting as an Allure that we sometimes cannot control. It iz hard to find true friends when all that men, or women, care about iz my face." Fleur stared Harry down, and Harry had the decency to look sheepish. Her chest heaved with ire, and Harry knew he had really done it this time.

He decided to speak. "I'm sorry Fleur. I didn't mean to make you upset. I know better than most what unwanted attention is like." Harry grinned ruefully, and pulled back the bangs of his black hair to reveal the well-known lightning bolt scar. He continued, "I guess I was just surprised you wanted anything more to do with me." Fleur opened her mouth to speak, but Harry raised a hand, urging her to let him finish.

"Not because you're part Veela, or anything like that," Harry assured her, "just because you are the most amazing girl who has ever paid any attention to me whatsoever. I don't mean that in any way other than what it is. I mean, I am only 14, and pretty scrawny to boot." Harry tilted his head and smiled, his eyes clear of any kind of self-pity. He was just stating fact. Fleur found herself blushing faintly, and turned away before he could see. Harry watched her take a breath, before turning back around to face him.

"Very well." she said, accepting his statement. Perhaps Harry Potter understood a little something about superficial attention after all. Being the Boy-Who-Lived would definitely come with a lot of attention—not all of it well-intentioned. "I am sorry I snapped at you. Now I will tell you what you need to know." she broke off, closing her eyes. Harry could see she was mentally preparing herself, but for what he couldn't say.

He waited patiently for her to speak, and was at last rewarded. Fleur's eyes slid open, and she spoke carefully, "'arry, what I 'ave been trying to tell you iz that all Veela have an "ability", for lack of a better word, called the "Bond"." Fleur stopped, taking another breath, unable to meet his eyes.

She continued, "When a Veela's blood is mixed with the blood of another, and great feelings are involved, those two individuals become "Bound"." She risked a glance at Harry, and he smiled encouragingly, still totally lost. Fleur plunged on. "Those two people are then bound, forever. Certain new abilities begin to appear in each person, reflecting some of their partner's abilities and strengths. Overtime, other things can develop. An empathy link, for some, for example. My parents have a link like that… More rarely, some couples can eventually communicate nonverbally. That iz usually something that develops in partners with more Veela blood…" She was rambling now. Fleur put her head in her hands, unable to continue.

Harry was confused as to why Fleur was telling him all of this about Veela. Not that it wasn't fascinating, but he was not sure where she was going with all of this. Still, he could tell she was upset. It was not in Harry's nature to leave someone upset, not like this, and not after they had gone through something terrifying together only the night before.

Hesitantly, Harry slid himself across the bench until he was very close to Fleur. He rested a light hand on her arm, half expecting her to swat it away. "Fleur, you are going to have to tell me more because I don't understand." he kept his voice quiet, not wanting to draw undue attention. His eyes glanced up and down the corridor, wondering what was keeping Mr. Weasley and Fleur's father. He was glad he had this chance to talk to Fleur, but thought it strange they were left alone for so long. Fleur sat up again, and Harry forgot all about Mr. Weasley.

Her voice was so quiet Harry could barely hear her; he had to lean in very close. " 'arry, I am so sorry…but we are Bound…" her voice trailed off, and Harry froze. His dark brows drew down, and he leaned back in the bench, away from Fleur. What? No, he couldn't have heard that right. Bound? With Fleur? But that…that wasn't possible…

Harry ran a hand back through his thick black hair, pulling hard at the roots as his mind raced. He remembered last night as clearly as if someone had stamped the memory into his head. Fleur holding so tight to his arm…him asking her to stop…the strange look on her face and her even stranger apology, even as he noted the cut on her wrist…the pounding fear that had accompanied their frenzied flight… Harry swallowed hard, and reached over blindly for Fleur's right hand, the one that had been holding his injured left arm so tightly. He gazed at the slim silver scar on her wrist, and blinked. Dimly, he heard her speaking.

"E-even w-with magical healing, there w-will always be a scar. For both of us." her voice was choked with tears. _Bound forever._ Harry's mind raced, thinking back over everything Fleur had just explained to him. An empathy bond? New abilities? His eyes widened. That was what she had meant when she said to contact her if he experienced any changes.

But bound? To a girl like Fleur? What would it mean? Did it mean that they…that they were…together? As in, boy and girl? Harry couldn't even bring himself to finish the thought. While he had allowed himself to imagine what it might be like with Fleur briefly after the cup, this was a thing for his wildest dreams—not something that could happen in reality.

With a start, Harry realized that the sound of her crying had changed—she was in pain. He immediately snapped back to the present and looked down. He had her wrist in a vice-grip. Harry released her quickly.

"I'm so sorry." Harry stared at his hand like it was not his own. Fleur was shaking her head.

"N-no, it iz the least I deserve." She was still crying, watching the faint bruise forming on her porcelain skin. It was then Harry realized that this must be awful for Fleur too. Here she was, stuck with him. Forever. Harry was freaking out, and he didn't even fully understand what this "Bond" entailed. He turned to face her, taking her wrist gently in one hand. He was glad to have something else to divert his attention to.

Harry pulled his wand from his pocket, and lightly laid the tip upon her bruising skin. He spoke quietly, fixing the bruise on her skin firmly in mind, "_Sano."_ Fleur watched in surprise as the bruise slowly receded, as if sucking itself up into Harry's wand. "My friend Hermione taught me that," he murmured as he finished up, letting go of her wrist, "I can only do bruises and small cuts with it, but she could probably use it to fix broken bones." He laughed slightly, thinking of his brainy friend. He was relieved to talk about something else, for even a few seconds, but that was over now. Harry closed his eyes and bowed his head. "Fleur, did you Bind us on purpose?" He spoke quietly, waiting for her response.

It was instantaneous.

Fleur sat up ramrod straight, blue eyes flashing again. "Of course not! I would never do such a thing!" her voice was angry. Harry was relieved she had stopped crying, and a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Fleur's voice faltered. "W-why are you smiling?" Harry's head came up, emerald eyes alight.

"You didn't do this on purpose." Harry said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Seeing her confused look, he tried to rephrase the thoughts in his mind, "This is not something either of us planned, so there is no blame in it." Harry rubbed a frustrated hand through his hair, "I can't blame you for something that wasn't your fault. We'll just have to figure this out…together." He raised his eyebrows at her, hoping for a response. Fleur stared at him in bewilderment. Harry waited for a response…and waited.

* * *

><p>~Fleur~<p>

Fleur stared at Harry. She could not believe this boy. She had just poured out this dark secret, this terrible thing that had happened to him… He had bruised her arm in what she had thought was his very justified anger, and then apologized and fixed it with a spell she knew most 14-year-olds couldn't use.

Now he was staring at her with those fathomless emerald eyes that looked so much older than 14, and was telling her that he didn't blame her for what had happened. He was reassuring her, when it was his life that had just been thrown out the window. It took her a few minutes to collect herself. Finally, she spoke.

Fleur spoke quietly, but intently, "I do not think you understand the situation. 'arry, we are bonded for life. There iz no way to break zis bond." He needed to understand. Fleur continued, "Our bond was created from fear, not love, but that does not matter. It will be hard now, so hard, for you to be with anyone…" Her voice faltered and she looked away, anguished.

Fleur was not in love with Harry at this point, and while he was certainly attracted to her, that was not love either. Fleur knew she could never be with anyone else, as long as she lived. The bond for her was too strong. She was too much a Veela to be able to ignore the bond. But Harry…he might be able to push it aside. She did not know. If he did, and did find someone else…she shuddered to think what that would feel like through the bond.

An insistent hand on her arm urged her to turn around again, and she met those green eyes that were undeniably striking. Harry was smiling faintly again, though she couldn't tell why. His voice was so steady, so sure, as he said, "I get it Fleur. We'll work it out. I know we will." His scrawny shoulders rose in a shrug that Fleur suddenly found endearing.

"Besides," he said, "it's not as if either of us have a girlfriend or boyfriend to worry about." His eyes snapped up to Fleur's then, worried. "Wait…do you have a boyfriend?" his voice squeaked a bit at the end, but it was the look in his eyes that did it for Fleur. She threw her silvery head back and laughed. After everything she had told him, _that _was what he was worried about? Fleur was still laughing when her father and Mr. Weasley showed up to get them.

"No," she said for his ears alone, her sapphire eyes sparkling, "I do not 'ave a boyfriend, 'arry Potter." She laughed again and got to her feet, ready to meet her father. "I will see you again soon, 'arry. Send an owl if you 'ave need of me before then." She winked at him, amused by his dazed expression, and left with her father.

Jefferoi smiled at her as they walked away, glad to see her burden had lessened. Perhaps the Potter boy wouldn't be so bad. "How did he take it?" he asked curiously. Fleur glanced up at him, and then looked ahead.

Her voice came eventually, "He took it…rather well. I don't think he really…understands. Papa…I am afraid." She leaned into her father a little bit, eyes still firmly fixed ahead. "He said we would face this together…but when he realizes what _this_ is, I think he will run far away."

Fleur heaved a great sigh, and Jefferoi felt his heart pain him. He wished there were a way to help his daughter. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. The only way to break this bond…would be to kill either Fleur or Harry. Well, Jefferoi decided, if this Harry didn't get his head on straight…Jefferoi would be paying him a little visit.

* * *

><p>~Harry~<p>

Harry stared after Fleur, dazed, bewildered, and oddly happy. Her eyes, he thought. They were so beautiful…seeing them sparkling like that…his heartbeat quickened. What had she meant, that she would "see him soon"? A throat clearing startled him, and Harry glanced up to see Mr. Weasley looking at him with an amused expression.

"Alright there, Harry?" He asked. Harry blinked, his eyes coming back into focus. His face flushed a deep red as he got up from the bench.

"Erm, yeah." He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed. Mr. Weasley just smiled at him, and offered one slow, conspiratorial wink.

"I'll not tell the misses when we get back, eh?" Mr. Weasley chuckled, and turned to head back toward the elevator. "Ah, young love! I remember it well…" his voice continued on into some story about some girl or other, but Harry wasn't listening. He was thinking about a girl with silvery hair, and sapphire eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>Greye's Notes:<strong> This chapter is shorter than the last one, I know. It felt like a good place to stop. So now Harry knows! Next chapter you'll be seeing Ron and Hermione again—you'll get to see their reactions to it as well! Stay-tuned folks, if you like where this is going.


	6. New Clothes

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter! Just my own mind and craziness.

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><p>Harry lay curled up under the covers of his borrowed bed reading by wand light a thick, old book called <em>Veela and their Ties to Wizard-kind.<em> He had borrowed it from Hermione ostensibly because he had been fascinated by the Bulgarian mascots at the Cup. Her expression had darkened, and he could swear she had muttered something like "_I know _exactly_ what you're fascinated with"_ but it was not in his friend to deny knowledge to anyone.

She had loaned him the book, saying he could borrow it for as long as he wanted—she had already read it four times. Hearing that Harry had desperately wanted to ask her what she knew about Veela, but he knew he wouldn't be able to lie to her if she asked him point blank if his interest in the subject only had to do with the mascots from the match.

So here he was, squinting at the old pages and hoping to find out more about Fleur's heritage. Having grown up in a decidedly non-magical family (understatement) there were many gaps in his magical knowledge even after three years at Hogwarts. Harry had never even heard of Veela until he saw them at the Cup.

Everything he knew now he had learned from Fleur, and that didn't sit well with him. He wanted to understand what was going on. So he read.

_It is unknown exactly where Veela originated from…for there are records of their existence dating back to our own earliest writings. No witch or wizard has ever learned the truth, for it is in the nature of Veela to be mysterious—or just plain tricky. The little confirmed information available is compiled in this book._

Harry frowned. So no one knew where Veela came from? That seemed strange. Surely Fleur must know, he thought, if her grandmother was one. But maybe not, if they were a secretive race…he continued to read.

_Most Veela encountered today by witches and wizards are not full-blooded. They are mere descendants of the true Veela—all of whom, records indicate, are female. It is unknown if true Veela are able to produce other true Veela in any way, as there has never been a recorded encounter with anything resembling a male Veela. There have been many recorded male part-Veela descendants, the product of wizard/Veela pairings, which puts to rest any doubt that Veela can only bear female children._

_It is also unknown if it is possible for a true Veela to die a natural death._

Harry stared at that line in interest, for it took up an entire page by itself—testifying to its importance. Were full-blood Veela immortal? Surely Fleur was not, Harry thought. He shook himself. It was getting late, and he was tired. There was information he actually wanted to know about—needed to know about. He flipped impatiently through the large tome until he found a section titled "Bonding". His heart sped up as he scanned the pages following, looking for the more vital tidbits:

…_bonded partners of Veela will share their increased lifespan—though unnatural deaths may still occur and are actually quite common…_

…_both partners in a Bond will gradually acquire attributes exhibited by the other…_

Harry paused, irritated with the book. It was like someone had to be Hermione to understand this!

…_essentially a Bond is meant to make partners equal, both physically and with their individual magical capabilities…_

Harry frowned. Equal? He wondered what it would mean to be equal to Fleur…Harry shivered. Even with this Bond thing, he thought, it was unlikely. Not that Harry didn't believe in himself a great deal. When he was on the Quidditch pitch, Harry felt invincible. When Professor Lupin had been putting Harry through his paces last year, he had been proud to excel so quickly. Fleur was just older, and from an entirely different breed. Literally and figuratively. Harry didn't know how he could match up to her—at least, not yet.

Suddenly tired, Harry rubbed a hand over his face. He gazed at the words, but they weren't making sense anymore. Not that they had made much sense before, he thought in dim amusement. Harry tried to blink, but his eyes wouldn't open again. He surrendered to sleep.

* * *

><p>Harry's head slammed into the book, his glasses snapping as something plowed into his back. The muffled laughter told Harry it had been a <em>someone.<em> Harry dazedly collected his thoughts.

"GroffmeRon-" Harry grunted, face still painfully mashed against the book. The weight on his back shifted slightly, but in no way diminished.

"What was that?" Came a falsely innocent voice. The effect was somewhat spoiled by the muffling of the blanket. Groaning in resignation, Harry abruptly braced his hands against the mattress and heaved—the weight on his back flew off so quickly Harry was astonished at his own strength. Usually he ended up wrestling with Ron for a while.

He shoved the blanket off himself and climbed out of bed, one hand clutching his broken glasses. Everything was blurry, but he could tell by the relative silence of the three redheads before him—two were remarkably similar blurs—that something astounding had happened. Ron broke the silence from across the room.

"Blimey Harry…you're…you're…well _look_ at you!" Ron's voice was hushed. Frowning, Harry repaired his glasses and put them on. Ron and the twins came into view.

Harry tilted his head, even more irritated. "Well spit it out Ron, you're the one who woke me up!" His voice was agitated, but he stopped as his ears caught up to his mouth. Or rather…his voice. His voice was deeper. Harry groaned inwardly. He wasn't _still_ going through his voice-changing phase, was he? He'd thought he was done with that ages ago.

Ron looked even more bewildered, and slowly stood up. Harry watched in confusion as Ron approached him slowly, looking up at him with eyes wide.

Harry's brain froze.

Looking_ up_?

He looked around slowly and came to the conclusion that he was definitely seeing from a greater height than before. Harry dashed across the cluttered room, knocking into things and thoroughly whacking his head on the way out the door. That sped him on his way even more. Since when had he needed to _duck_?

Harry sprinted into the bathroom, passing a very startled Ginny. Ordinarily he might have found her gaping mouth comical. He only had eyes for the mirror though, and his mouth fell open, mimicking Ginny's. He looked into the green eyes that reflected back at him—they were the only part of himself that resembled the 14 year old boy he had gone to bed as.

Black hair sprouted from his head in a virtual mane-the spiky result probably bed head—that reached nearly to his shoulders. There was an overnight's worth of growth on his face too, and he felt his chin in awe. His eyes fell below his face, taking in the broad shoulders that would easily dwarf his narrow 14-year-old frame. Hesitantly, he lifted his shirt and was astonished to find a flat stomach with the beginnings of a six pack. Harry swallowed. He looked back up into the mirror.

Was this real? Was this happening? It was like he had become 17 overnight. He braced his hands on the sink, ignoring how much bigger they were now too. Judging from his height, he could probably match Fred and George now. He felt so…so high off the ground. Harry closed his eyes and tried to think.

Whatever had caused this…what could have caused this? An aging spell, perhaps? Did such a thing even exist? Harry's eyes snapped wide open as an idea popped into his head. Something he had read…something he had _just _read.

…_essentially a Bond is meant to make partners equal, both physically and with their individual magical capabilities…_

He had thought that an odd statement the night before, but now it became painfully clear to him. Fleur was older than he was. Only by a couple years, but at their age that was a lot when it came to physical development. The magic…the bond…must have sped up his growth rate to match hers. No doubt an easier path than making her younger. Harry placed a hand over his face and groaned.

Just then, Hermione appeared in the bathroom doorway. She was looking over her shoulder at someone Harry couldn't see. "Relax Ginny," Hermione called, "I'm sure it's just some stupid joke." Her head came around and the words died in her throat and she looked at Harry. More like _stared_ at Harry. A faint blush rose in her cheeks. "Oh..oh my."

Harry realized she wasn't going to say anything else. "Hermione?" He asked uncertainly. Her blush inexplicably deepened, and Harry found himself reddening in embarrassment as well. Still, hearing his voice seemed to snap her out of her momentary daze.

Hermione spoke, a trace of her usual self back. "What happened Harry? Did you try some kind of aging potion? Why?" Hermione didn't even know what to ask in this situation. Harry just shook his head.

"No, but I think I know what happened. It's…it's so strange." His voice grew softer as he stared at his hands, which now seemed utter strangers to him. "I'll explain, but I think it best to talk to everyone at once. Could you gather everyone in the kitchen?" His green eyes caught her gaze, hoping she would understand. Hermione looked at him for a long moment, before nodding. "Thanks."

"I'll get everyone." She said, unable to hide the worry in her voice. If Harry wanted to assemble everyone, it had to be serious. After she had gone, Harry turned to look at himself in the mirror again.

He spoke to his reflection, "I didn't want to tell everybody yet. But I think I've got no choice left in the matter." Resolutely squaring his shoulders, Harry headed downstairs to explain himself to everyone. Even if he did only half understand what was going on himself.

* * *

><p>Fleur sat quietly before Madame Maxime. One always sat quietly before the Madame, but Fleur was even more reserved than usual. She sat up straight and looked attentive enough, of course, but she was hearing very little of what her headmistress was telling her.<p>

Fleur was a little busy thinking about Harry Potter. It had been over a week since she had seen him at the Ministry now, and school was about to start. Fleur hadn't heard anything from Harry, and she was worried. What must he be thinking? Had he even thought of her once since the Ministry?

A part of her thought she was being silly about this. After all, she could as easily have sent an owl to him. Fleur wasn't sure what she had expected, but complete radio silence wasn't it. Then the greater fear—what if something had happened to him? He was Harry Potter after all, the Boy Who Lived—and the Boy Who Was Still Hunted. Surely she would have heard something if that had happened though—or felt something?

"Miss Delacour!" Madame Maxime's voice cracked like a whip over her, and Fleur realized belatedly that her headmistress had been trying to get her attention for a while. The large woman eyed her severely, and Fleur tried to make herself look apologetic. "I don't know where you were just then, but you need to pay attention! What I am telling you is important. You are going to be our school's champion in the Tri Wizard Tournament." The Madame's voice sounded proud and happy. Fleur blinked.

Her voice came out harsher than she'd intended, "What?" Fleur shook her head. "What!" She said again, blue eyes practically on fire, "What if I don't want to be this "champion"? Do I not get a say in this?" Fleur realized she was out of her seat, but she was still shorter than her seated headmistress. Madame Maxime met her eyes coolly, and Fleur could see the steely resolve there.

The headmistress's voice came softly, but carried no hint of leeway, "Fleur, you were not chosen for this as punishment. This is a great honor, and there is no one as fitting as you." Fleur stared at her in disbelief. Fleur was pretty good in her studies, and she fancied herself a decent duelist, but she was by no means the best. Her eyes narrowed as she caught on to what Madame Maxime was saying.

Fleur's voice was an uncharacteristic growl, "This is about my father." It was not a question. This was all political. Fleur hated politics, she hated all of the games people continually played with her and her father. Maxime didn't deny the statement. Her chair creaked as she leaned back.

"This school needs financial assistance. I will be blunt. Your father is in a position to help us—it never hurts to offer him an incentive." It was clear that this was the final word in the matter, and Fleur turned her back on Maxime, enraged. She didn't want to be a public spectacle. This was _not_ what she needed right now!

Without a word, Fleur left Madame Maxime's office. She had to go back home and pack for the school year. She was glad she had not brought her things with her ahead of time. She needed to think—and she needed to write to Harry.

* * *

><p>Harry sat at the Weasley's kitchen table, staring at a raised grain in the wood. He could feel everyone staring at him, absorbing his words and..well, absorbing <em>him.<em> There was Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione. Bill and Charlie had already gone back to their respective jobs, and Mr. Weasley and Percy had left early for the Ministry that morning.

"So…," began Mrs. Weasley, "This Veela…this Fleur?" She paused, only continuing when Harry nodded. "She's bound you to her? With this Veela Bond?" Harry looked up sharply at that, detecting the rising mama bear in Mrs. Weasley.

He shook his head firmly. "Not on purpose Mrs. Weasley, definitely not on purpose. It was an accident." He took a slight breath, continuing before she could speak. "Fleur didn't seem any happier about it than I am. From what I can understand, the mingling of our blood at the Cup, along with our high-running emotions, was enough for this Bond to take place." Wow, thought Harry, usually he bungled explanations pretty badly. Probably a result of actually reading a little up on this.

Mrs. Weasley frowned, leaning forward as she eyed Harry doubtfully. "But dear, is there no way to reverse this? Being Bound unintentionally like this…it's not right. And look at you! This magic is changing you already." He could tell from her voice that she was worried about him, and he was grateful. Mrs. Weasley had always treated him like one of her own.

"No," he answered, "There's no way to undo it—one of us would have to die." That had been an unspoken truth he had picked up from Fleur, and also something he had read in the book. Harry braved looking around the table at everyone.

Fred and George looked like someone had just played a great joke—they were hiding smiles, and Harry thought they would be teasing him about this is if their mother wasn't sitting at the same table. Ron looked confused, Hermione skeptical, and Ginny dumbfounded.

"What're you going to do mate?" Ron spoke up, looking at Harry seriously. Everyone's gaze on him sharpened, and Harry felt briefly overwhelmed.

Then he smiled, and stuck out his arm—revealing several inches of pale skin beyond the end of his sleeve. "Well, I had thought I should go clothes shopping." There was a stunned silence, and thenthe three women squealed a little. Ron groaned. Harry just laughed. At the moment, he didn't know what he was going to do. He would just have to take all of this one step at a time. Maybe when he saw Fleur next, she would be able to help.

Harry didn't have a whole lot of time to go shopping, as he would have to make the Hogwarts Express the very next day. With Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and Ginny's help in London and Diagon Alley, he soon had a whole new wardrobe. In addition to new robes—and dress robes, which he needed this year for some reason—Harry had bought himself new Muggle clothes. The older students at Hogwarts often forewent the traditional robes in favor of jeans and sweatshirts, though it was still considered proper to wear an outer-robe over top, at the least.

He had acquired a few pairs of dark jeans—that Mrs. Weasley assured him could be casual or dress—as well as some dress slacks. He had found some t-shirts and button-up tops he liked as well, and Mrs. Weasley had promised to knit him some new sweaters for when the weather turned colder. More than satisfied, Harry had snuck away from the three women with Ron to go and find some ice cream. They ended up at Florean Fortescue's, and sat outside his parlor, eating and talking.

Ron looked at Harry seriously. It was a look Harry hadn't often seen on his friend's face, and he mentally prepared himself. Now, at last, they would have an actual conversation about what had happened. "Mate," Ron began at last, "You didn't really go into detail about this whole "Bond" thing. Are you sure you're okay with it?" Ron took a lick of his Mint Worm ice cream cone as he waited for a response. (It was called such because it tasted like mint, but glowed green from cave glow worms.)

Harry took a breath, staring bracingly at his Double Chocolate Ear Wax sundae. He had known he would have to talk about this with his best friend. He was just glad it was only Ron, for now. For all that he loved Hermione, there were some things he didn't like to talk about in front of her.

"I don't know Ron," Harry spoke honestly for the first time, relieved to confide in someone. "This is all so strange," he held one of his hands out in front of himself—it felt larger than life to him at the moment. Harry had been struggling all day with his new body. Well, he guessed it wasn't exactly new, but it was _bigger._ Harry was suddenly several inches taller than he had been, and it had made for some awkward moves.

He looked up at Ron, thinking about this Bond thing with Fleur. "But I guess I'm not not-okay with it? I just don't understand it all yet." On some level, Harry knew that what he had with Fleur now was serious. He had yet to grasp the ramifications. For once, Ron was ahead of the curve.

The redhead sat back in his seat, blue eyes appraising Harry worriedly. "Harry, this means that you already know who you're going to be with, forever though. Right? I mean, I know a little about Veela —Bill mentioned once that he works with Veela—and there's no escaping. There are couples my brother knows that really dislike each other, but can't have good relationships with other people because they are so tightly bound to each other. I didn't fully get what he meant until now." Harry's brows drew down at this—he hadn't really considered that what had happened between him and Fleur had effectively sealed his romantic fate. He had also never heard Ron speak so authoritatively on a subject. He was suitably impressed. He didn't remain so long, however, as Ron's words hit him.

Did this mean that he now belonged to Fleur? That they would be together, whether either of them wanted it or not? Harry felt a surge of irrational anger. He slammed his hand down on the table, green eyes blazing. "This is stupid!" Harry abruptly found himself standing, and didn't care. "Don't we get a choice in this? What about what Fleur and I want?" Ron was leaning back, holding his hands up placatingly, but Harry didn't pay him any attention.

"And look at me! I've probably just lost two years off my life thanks to this magic, and who knows how long that's going to be with Voldemort running around?" Ron was standing now too, and Harry felt his friend take his arm.

"Sorry—I didn't mean to get you all riled up. Take it easy, okay?" Ron wasn't great at being a calming influence, but people were starting to become alarmed, especially when Harry had used the Dark Lord's name. "Let's just eat our ice cream," he said, guiding a still-fuming Harry back into his chair, "Mum, Ginny, and Hermione ought to be finishing up soon and we can go home for a last game of Quidditch before the summer ends, eh?" Harry at last nodded, and took a half hearted bite of ice cream. "Look at it this way, mate, at least you got bonded to a knock-out like Fleur! Any guy would consider himself lucky if she gave him the time of day—and now she's all yours!" Harry just rolled his eyes, but was grateful for Ron's companionship.

He didn't say another word the entire trip back to the Burrow from Diagon Alley, too lost in his own mind. So he and Fleur were stuck together—they would never be allowed to find true love? He felt a pang as he thought of Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw girl he thought was really pretty and sweet. He would have no chance to ask her out now. Harry doubted the Bond would be able to physically stop him, but it didn't seem fair to date one girl when he was bound to another. Poor Fleur, he thought. She hadn't even ended up with someone her own age. And as a Veela, or part Veela, she understood this whole predicament a lot better than Harry did. Harry was suddenly grateful for his own ignorance—he doubted he could handle the whole truth.

Once back at the Burrow, Harry ended up declining a game of Quidditch with Ron and his brothers. He wasn't in the mood. Instead Harry went to bed, missing the looks of concern the others cast after him.

Once he was safely out of earshot, Mrs. Weasley turned on her children and Hermione. "Alright. There'll be absolutely no teasing about this, understand?" This comment was mostly directed at Fred and George, who groaned in unison. "This is a very serious matter," she continued sternly, "and each of you is going to have to do your best to help Harry through it. I've already sent an owl to the Ministry about this—surely someone there can sort this out." Mrs. Weasley said this with such conviction, that Ron groaned.

Hermione cast him a strange look, and he knew she didn't understand. His meddling mother had just made things worse for Harry. There was nothing, he knew, that the Ministry could do about this short of sending a Hit Wizard squad after Fleur—which wouldn't happen. Even if Harry was the Golden Boy of England, Fleur was the daughter of the French Minister for Magic. No, the only thing Mrs. Weasley had succeeded in doing was ensuring that the Daily Prophet would hear about what had happened. Harry was about to make another front page debut, Ron was sure.

He turned toward the stairs and started up them to go and warn his friend. "Suddenly," said Ron, "I don't feel like playing Quidditch either." The ride to Hogwarts on the morrow was going to be infinitely uncomfortable.

* * *

><p><strong>Greye's Notes:<strong> Sorry for the wait on this one. A combination of life and writer's block stunted its growth. I had too many ideas and wasn't sure what would work out the best ultimately.

Also, thank you thank you to all of my amazing reviewers! I have a crazy amount of followers on this fic now, and people who have favorited it! I am really astounded.

Just a note though. I have been receiving some concerns about this fic, and while I appreciate all suggestions (and encourage them!) I want to make it clear that I am writing this fic for myself as well as for all of you. Ultimately, I will continue in the direction that I choose and I hope that you all continue to like it. If you don't, then you don't have to read it.

The next chapter shouldn't take as long, but don't expect it to be quite this long. This length is partially to make up for my lateness. Next up: Fleur's letter and a note from Sirius.


	7. Train Ride

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter!

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><p>As predicted by Ron, the ride back to Hogwarts was like a circus. In more ways than one.<p>

The first thing everyone noticed was, well, Harry himself. 14-year-old Harry had effectively become—physically-17-year-old Harry, and this drew a lot of attention. And, well, Harry just looked good.

Harry had chosen a pair of dark wash jeans, a light t-shirt, and his new leather jacket. The leather was beautiful, a very dark brown that produced a high luster. It was supple, and very comfortable. It had been chosen by Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and Ginny while Harry and Ron were getting their ice cream. Harry didn't think he himself could have justified the extravagance despite his small fortune, but the jacket did look really good. He had drawn the line at his shoes that morning. Hermione had argued with him endlessly, trying to convince him to wear one of his new pairs, but Harry wanted to wear his old Chucks. And so he did. They were a little incongruous with the rest of his outfit, but Harry didn't care. They were comfortable, and were at least one more thing that hadn't changed.

Getting himself and his friends onto the train became an ordeal when old friends from Hogwarts had swooped down on them.

"Harry! Wow mate, you must've grown a foot!" from the boys,

and

"Hiya Harry…it's good to see you again," from the girls.

At last, though, Ron, Harry, and Hermione were comfortably settled into their own compartment. Each released a sigh and settled down for the train journey to start.

Harry jumped when a bird suddenly flew into the window. He stared at the glass. It was Hermione who finally leaned forward and pulled the window open.

"Honestly," she said, "It's like you've never seen owl post before!" That snapped Harry out of it, and he watched as a small spotted owl flew into the compartment. The bird dropped a letter into his lap, and settled onto the luggage rack above their heads to take a rest. Ron and Hermione eyed the letter curiously.

When Harry had first seen his name scrawled on the front, his heart had jumped to think that maybe, just maybe, Fleur had written to him. He now recognized Sirius' handwriting, however, and felt ashamed by the pang of disappointment he was now feeling. Feeling the curious stares of his friends, he looked up apologetically. "It's from Sirius." He informed them.

"Well, what's he say?" Asked Ron impatiently. Hermione smacked his arm in irritation. Harry felt his mouth quirk up into an unbidden smile before he tore the note open. He quickly scanned the contents before reading them aloud:

_Harry,_

_ The pain you felt in your scar added to the events at the World Cup cannot be coincidence. I do not know what they mean yet, but it is clear that you are in danger. Hardly an unfamiliar condition, I know, but please be on your guard. I am coming back, though it may be some time before you see me. Stick close to your friends in the meantime._

_ Your Bond with this Veela girl worries me too, but it is not my immediate concern. From what I know of Veela bonds, they are supposed to make partners stronger. In your current situation, any added strength is a bonus. The situation may not be ideal, but I say never look a gift horse in the mouth. And who knows? Maybe you will grow to like this Veela girl, and the personal side of things won't be so bad._

_ We'll talk more once I'm there. Stay safe._

_ Padfoot_

It was probably one of the longest letters Sirius had ever written him, and Harry savored every word. Up until it hit him exactly what it meant that he was coming back. Hermione beat him to the punch.

"No! He can't come back—the Ministry is still looking for him!" Her eyes were wide with concern, and she was staring at Harry like she expected him to do something.

Harry frowned, "I can't stop him, if that's what you mean. I don't even know where he is!" Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but Ron grabbed her arm. His face paled.

"Harry," said Ron, his voice had a sickly quality to it. "How did Sirius know about Fleur?" Silence met his question as both Harry and Hermione found themselves at a loss for words.

The compartment door suddenly slid open.

"Well look here boys, we've found Potter and his little sidekicks." The mocking voice of Draco Malfoy sent an instant shard of anger through Harry. Harry stared up at Draco's pale, sneering face with undisguised hatred. "Should we be worried," Malfoy drawled, leaning against the door frame, "about your "evil seductress"? I wouldn't want to be a "hapless victim"." Harry's look of rage became tinged with confusion. This seemed to be what Malfoy was looking for, because he pulled out a paper with a flourish.

"Here you are Potter," Malfoy was smiling in the way only true snakes smiled, "enjoy the read. I sure did." The copy of the Daily Prophet landed in Harry's lap. Harry looked down and stared at the front page headline: _BOY-WHO-LIVED SEDUCED BY FRENCH VEELA_.

Harry's mouth fell open. He tried to read the article, but the words were blurring as his mind raced. How had this happened? How had the Prophet found out? And why, WHY, was it so DAMNED important that everyone in the world know about his life? His breathing picked up. Harry was so tired. Tired of everyone making a big deal out of everything he did, or said, or thought. He was tired of the looks he got from people, the way everyone always looked right at the scar on his forehead instead of seeing him, an actual person.

Malfoy was still talking, but Harry didn't care. At least, not until he heard Fleur's name. His green eyes came up, rage-filled. Malfoy kept talking, not noticing the murderous look on Harry's face.

"Not sure why any girl would choose you, but then, maybe she's not right in the head." Malfoy's sneer widened as he relished in his own voice. "As the daughter of the French Minister, no doubt she'll be turning up at Hogwarts soon. Perhaps we Slytherins could show her that there are…better men…to choose from. We'll be sure to show her a good time for you, Potter." It was then Draco's eyes fell to Harry's, and for the first time saw the look on his face. Malfoy paled.

Harry flew up out of his seat and fisted his hands in Malfoy's robes, shoving him bodily out of the compartment and into the corridor wall. Harry brought his face down close to Malfoy's, and it seemed as if only now was the Slytherin boy realizing that Harry had had a growth spurt.

Harry's voice came low, his eyes flashing dangerously, "If you so much as _look_ at Fleur, I will make you wish you'd never been born." Harry balled a fist and slammed it into Malfoy's gut, smiling in satisfaction when the other boy doubled over, gasping for breath. "Where are your smarmy words now?" Harry brought his knee up into Malfoy's face, and found himself immensely pleased by the spurt of blood he saw. There were just some things magic couldn't replace.

Perhaps having this big new body wasn't such a bad thing. Harry glared at Malfoy's henchmen, and the two boys immediately backed off. Harry shoved Malfoy down the corridor, enjoying the stumbling of the blond monster. Giving Malfoy something more than gossip to think about was refreshing.

Harry stilled, and looked around. Several heads were poked out of compartments, staring at him and the retreating Malfoy. Ron's head was among them.

"Excellent! Maybe they'll leave us alone this year, eh?" The optimistic look on Ron's face was so surprising that Harry had to laugh. Ron frowned, "Nah, they'll always be gits won't they?" Harry laughed again, and slipped back into their compartment. The laughter died when he caught the look Hermione was giving him.

"You're awfully protective of a girl you just met…" Hermione stated, her voice and face serious. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Or maybe I just liked having a reason to punch Malfoy." Harry smirked, and Hermione sat back, miffed. Harry softened. "Hermione, I just don't want them to give her a hard time. She's not a bad person." He paused, and glanced out the window. "And maybe I am a little angry about all this attention. I get tired of it, you know?"

Harry picked up the Daily Prophet and stared at it. "How on earth did they even find out? I only told you guys, and…" Harry looked up even as Ron spoke.

"Yeah. Us, and my mother." The look of guilt on Ron's face and righteous justification on Hermione's was enough to tell Harry that something had happened.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "What happened?" His friends sat back a little at the sound of his voice; Hermione spoke first.

"She was just trying to help Harry, I mean, it is a difficult situation you've found yourself in." Harry stared piercingly at her, and she swallowed.

"What did she do Hermione?" Harry's voice came out harsher than he'd intended, but it got the point across. Hermione leaned a little away from him, not meeting his eye. Ron, for his part, just sat silently. Waiting.

"Em," Hermione whispered nervously, "She may have sent a letter to the Ministry."

Harry closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat, utterly silent. His hands curled around the seat cushion under him, fingers tightening until his skin was stretched tight across his knuckles. His eyes snapped open and landed on Ron who actually jumped a little. Ron _had_ mentioned the night before that his mother had sent a letter to someone about what had happened, but he had been so tired he must have missed exactly who she had sent the letter to.

"Ron." His best friend eyed him nervously. "Why did your mother send a letter to the Ministry without asking me?" Harry thought his tone was quite polite, but Ron paled. In actuality, Harry's voice was very scary. Its lower pitch gave it a darker feel, which got even worse when Harry looked all still and quiet.

Ron finally answered.

"I dunno mate. She just…does things sometimes that she thinks are for the best! I know she didn't mean any harm by it…" Ron trailed off, wincing slightly as if expecting Harry to explode all over him like he had done to Malfoy before. Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes again.

What Mrs. Weasley had done, however well intentioned, had just left Harry in a very awkward—and potentially painful—position. In addition to what it would inevitably do to Fleur's reputation in France. Harry had wanted to keep the whole thing under wraps for as long as possible, at least until he had talked to Fleur again. He was angry with Mrs. Weasley for going behind his back. But he certainly couldn't throw her against a wall. Opening his eyes, Harry pulled out a piece of parchment, and wrote her a letter:

_Dear Mrs. Weasley,_

_ I appreciate everything you have done for me over the years. Taking me into your home, and into your family. I have always counted myself very lucky to have become friends with Ron, and to have met you when I did. Without you and your family, I am sure my time at Hogwarts would not have been as enjoyable._

_ However. As much as I appreciate your good intentions toward me and all of the help you have rendered thus far, I would rather that you did not contact the Ministry on my behalf again. I want to keep my private life private, and it is for me to decide who gets to know what and when. I told you in confidence what happened to me at the World Cup because I trusted you, and I feel that you have now betrayed that trust by telling the Ministry. Once again I am plastered all over the front page of the Daily Prophet, and I don't think I need to tell you how uncomfortable that is._

_ You do not have the authority or the right to make decisions like this for me. That being said, I want you to know that I still do care deeply for you and your family. Please in future respect me enough to make my own decisions._

_ Yours Respectfully,_

_ Harry Potter_

It took Harry the rest of the train ride to finish his letter. He wanted it to be polite, but firm. Then he tied it to the leg of the spotted owl Sirius had sent to him, and sent him on his way to Mrs. Weasley. Both Ron and Hermione were trying to look small in the seat across from him. Harry didn't bother trying to make them feel more comfortable. He pulled on his Hogwarts robe over his clothes, and got ready for his homecoming. At the very least, he thought, the feast would be good. And he might actually make the sorting this year. Feeling slightly cheered, Harry spent the rest of the trip looking out the window, lost in thought.

Remembering Sirius' letter, he was comforted by his godfather's practical view of his situation with Fleur. No doubt Sirius had learned of the situation from the Prophet. If Sirius wasn't worried, then Harry wouldn't worry too much either. He would write to Fleur tomorrow, he decided. It was about time he sent her a letter. Frowning, he remembered what Malfoy had said about seeing her soon. Fleur had said something about that when he had seen her before as well. He hoped the feast tonight would answer the question of why they were expecting students from other schools.

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><p><strong>Greye's Notes:<strong> Ok, so this chapter was supposed to be up in a much more timely fashion. I had a little accident on my motorcycle, which distracted me from this chapter. I'm not too much the worse for wear now, and my bike's ok. I was just pretty rattled. I hope you all can forgive my distraction, and the comparative shortness of this chapter.

Reviewers one and all, I thank you for your continued patronage! I am continually astonished by the kind words and insights I keep receiving. I am so glad most of you seem to be enjoying this story thus far. Thank you as well to all of those who followed/favorite this story. It really does mean a lot.

Thanks also for the Madame Maxime correction! I appreciate that—I went in and fixed it right away. I am kind of surprised I messed up her name. We didn't see Fleur this time, but she'll be back next time.


	8. Letters

**Disclaimer:** Once again, I don't own Harry Potter! Not even a teensy tiny bit.

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><p><em>Dear Harry,<em>

_ I am truly sorry for the flood of attention on you now—a result of the bond between us. I know that you, like me, do not like that kind of attention at all. I wish there were a way that I could help. As I'm sure you can imagine, I am in a similar situation back in France. How are you doing?_

_ The reason I am writing you now is because we did not really get the opportunity to discuss our Bond in any depth. By that I mean, what the effects might be on you and me. Harry, some things about you might begin to change. I don't know precisely what because every Bond manifests differently, but I do know that there will be _something_ that changes. The Bond tries to even things out between partners, typically. Each Bond has its own idea about what would accomplish that equality, however. No one really knows what the Bond is—whether just an extension of magic itself, or another entity altogether._

_ I guess what I'm saying is, please tell me about any changes that happen, no matter how small they appear to you. I know our situation is not one that either of us would have chosen, but I think that we should keep in contact and share our experiences. It's the only way we will grow._

_ Please send me a reply when you have the opportunity._

_Fleur _

Harry sat back after reading Fleur's letter, letting his back rest against the cool stone behind his bedstead. He had received her letter in the midst of dinner—highly unusual for an owl to show up during dinner—but had decided to wait to open it when he got back to his room. His heart had leaped when he had seen his name on the envelope, in handwriting that simply must be hers.

Harry took a deep breath, smelling the faint, clean scent that was Fleur. She didn't smell like flowers or fruit like so many girls did. No, she smelled clean and crisp, like a fresh wind off the ocean or on the top of a mountain. Not that Harry had ever been to the top of a mountain, and he had only been to the beach once with the Dursley's when he was eleven. He took another breath. It was a wonderful smell, whatever it was.

The feast had been no better than feasts previous, but he had been able to see the sorting. Listening to the hat had been really fun, and Harry had relaxed enough to laugh and talk with Ron and Hermione again. He was still angry that they had allowed Mrs. Weasley to do what she had done, but he understood that ultimately they couldn't have stopped her.

Now though, reading Fleur's letter, it was hard to focus on anything else.

Harry pulled a roll of parchment toward him and dug out a quill that had seen better days from beneath his mattress. Peeves liked to drip ink on his face using his own quills while he slept—Harry had gotten into the habit of stuffing his quills under his mattress to hide them from the poltergeist.

_Dear Fleur,_ Harry began, and paused. What should he say? He felt his face warm, and was glad none of the other boys were back in the dorm yet to see his face. He didn't want to say the wrong thing…Malfoy's words from the train came floating back to Harry unbidden. It was stupid, Harry knew, to expect Fleur to like him—to do more than tolerate him. She hadn't wanted this bond, whatever it was. Harry had to admit though that the effects, while startling at first, were rather useful. Turning back to the letter with a little more confidence, he continued.

_I am really glad that you wrote to me. Some things have been happening that I think you should know, maybe you can even explain them. But first, I am truly, truly sorry about what the Daily Prophet said. My best friend's mum wrote to the Ministry about what happened to me, which is likely why that article got written._

_ As for what has happened… Well, I've grown about a foot. Practically overnight. When I woke up a few days ago looking liked I had aged several years, I'll admit I freaked out a little. When you see me again, I won't be shorter than you anymore. Don't worry too much—the extra height and reach is actually coming in pretty handy. My friend Hermione and my friend Ron's sister Ginny were ecstatic because I had to go clothes shopping._

_ Has anything changed for you? That's pretty much it for me. I guess the Bond sped up my physical growth to match yours? If what you're telling me about the Bond is right. Which I'm sure it is._

_ I know now about the Triwizard Tournament as well. I wish that you were coming before October—there is still a lot for us to figure out. But I guess I should just be happy that you are coming at all._

Harry paused, thinking. Was there anything else he could say? Suddenly remembering Dumbledore's speech about the Triwizard Tournament, and how dangerous it was, he felt a shiver of worry. What if Fleur was chosen, and she got hurt? That was another thing…if one of them got hurt, what would happen to the other? Harry would have to be more careful this year. And, for the first time since he had heard about this Tournament, Harry wanted to be a part of it. He was only 14, but he wanted to find a way to participate. He knew it was ludicrous to think that he could offer more protection for Fleur than she could provide for herself, but he wanted to try. Harry looked down at his letter and picked up his quill.

_Fleur, I take from what you said to me before that you definitely will be entering into the Tournament. The way my headmaster spoke of it, this is a very dangerous event. Professor Dumbledore never exaggerates danger—if anything, he often understates it. Please Fleur be careful, I don't want to lose you before we've even gotten to know each other._

_See you in October._

_Harry_

Harry finished his letter and looked it over carefully before rolling it up. As if anticipating his need, he saw Hedwig sweep in through the open window beside his bed. "Hey girl. I need you already." Hedwig hooted softly and landed on his knee. Harry took a moment to stroke her soft feathers and smiled. She really was his most prized possession—if such a dignified owl could be considered a possession. She had been his first real friend, even before Ron.

"I need you to take this to Fleur Delacour. She'll be at Beauxbatons." He carefully tied his letter to Hedwig's leg as he spoke. "I'm sure you can find her. I don't know how Beauxbatons does mail, so you'll have to figure it out." She nipped his finger affectionately, and Harry laughed. "Alright, I know. You know what you're doing, even if I don't. Off you go then." He watched as Hedwig spread her snowy wings and lifted silently out the window. He missed her already.

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><p>Fleur stared angrily at the blank parchment in front of her. She was supposed to be writing a paper for her Defense Against the Dark Arts class, but no words would come. She had to fill up a roll and a half of parchment deciding whether or not she should use a curse to dispel a hex. Fleur knew this was important, but it was hard to make herself care when she had so many other things to think about.<p>

Like how Madame Maxime was using her to lever money from her father and curry favor with the ministry.

Like surviving a school day after that stupid newspaper article.

Like Harry.

Fleur put her head down on the table, ignoring the other people around her in the dormitory. It was getting late, and more and more people were streaming in to go to bed. Fleur knew that she should try to write more before sleeping too, but she couldn't. She felt an overwhelming urge to talk to Harry. To be near him. She barely knew this boy, but she craved his presence now like an addict. She felt stupid for it. Which made her angrier still.

It was probably the Bond, Fleur knew, and Harry was probably feeling something similar. But it didn't make the reality of it any easier. She wouldn't be seeing Harry until the end of October. Fleur knew she would have to get her act together before then. She groaned aloud, a very un-ladylike sound.

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><p>A rapid tapping on the window brought Fleur around. She moaned in pain as she came to, feeling the incredible stiffness in her neck and shoulders. Slowly, painfully, she lifted her head from the table. She had fallen asleep in the common room. Fleur swallowed. Her mouth felt dry. "What?" She blinked and looked around, focusing on a white owl at the window, still busily tapping her beak against the glass. It took her brain a few seconds to process, and then "Oh!"<p>

Fleur quickly got up, staggering as blood rushed into her limbs, and opened the window to let the beautiful owl swoop in. She settled on the desk and looked at Fleur expectantly. "Who could you be from?" Fleur sank back into her chair and carefully detached the letter from the owl's leg. She was the most beautiful snowy owl Fleur had ever seen, and she definitely didn't recognize her. The school didn't own any snowy owls either. "Let's see then." The owl continued to look at her expectantly, and Fleur caught up.

"Oh, here." She pulled a plate across the table that had a few rashers left on it from the night before. Fleur had brought it back to the dorm after dinner because she hadn't felt hungry. "They're cold, but help yourself." As Hedwig busied herself with the food, Fleur opened the scroll.

_Dear Fleur…_

Fleur gasped in surprise as she realized that this letter was from Harry. A pleasant tingle worked its way from her fingers through the rest of her body, and Fleur read slowly. She didn't want to finish too fast.

As she read, a frown began to build on her face. She couldn't imagine the mother of a friend doing what this woman had done. Fleur wondered if she realized the damage she had caused. Fleur was being completely ostracized at school. Not everyone had known she was part Veela, but they all sure did now. Her father had had to deal with countless unending press conferences, and Fleur was sure Harry was suffering for it too, even if he hadn't said anything. That took an awful lot of nerve. She kept reading.

Harry had…grown? She would have to ask her father if he had ever heard of the Bond manifesting itself in such a physical way. She was relieved that Harry didn't seem angry about it, at least. For now. She shook herself. Finish the letter, then analyze.

Fleur couldn't help reading the rest rather quickly, and felt a faint flush rising in her cheeks. Harry was worried about her? _Please Fleur be careful…_ She read the words again, her lips quirking into a smile. _I don't want to lose you…_ Realistically, Fleur knew that Harry was just being kind, but this letter had been just what she needed. Fleur let herself enjoy his words for a moment longer before pulling the parchment forward that she had planned on using for her Defense Against the Dark Arts paper. That could wait, she thought, and this couldn't.

Despite what Harry had said about being fine, Fleur was sure he was at least a little uncomfortable. Having changes like that happen to your body overtime was disconcerting on its own, but waking up in a body that was different than what you went to bed with had to be more so.

She glanced up at the snowy owl, which was happily chowing down on her leftover rashers, and figured she wouldn't mind waiting for a reply to take to her master. Fleur dipped her quill into her inkpot and began.

_Dear Harry…_

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><p>Harry was down eating breakfast with Ron and Hermione when the owls came in. He immediately looked up, searching for Hedwig even though he knew she likely wasn't back yet. His eyes roved for a flash of white amongst the grey, tawny, and black, but he had no luck. His friends looked at him questioningly, but he just shook his head. He didn't feel up to telling them about Fleur, not just yet.<p>

"Cheer up mate." Said Ron, glancing at their schedule for the day. "We lucked out for the morning—Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures first." When Ron suddenly grimaced, Harry looked over at the schedule for himself and shook his head in irritation. They were still stuck with the Slytherins for Hagrid's class. Then Harry groaned as his eyes took in Double Divination.

"I swear, if Professor Trewlaney starts fortelling my death again…" Harry muttered darkly. Hermione tsked across the table even as she flipped through an Arithmancy book.

"If you had dropped it like me, you wouldn't be in this situation. Why don't you just drop Divination and take something else? There are loads of better classes!" Hermione finally looked up from her book and stared at Harry seriously.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Better classes like what? Muggle Studies? Runes? I've got no interest in those."

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "But either would be better than sitting in that smoky room being told you're going to die."

Harry had to admit she had a point.

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><p>After they departed for lessons, Harry and Ron fell in together in Herbology. As they had walked across the castle lawns to the greenhouses, Harry could feel that Ron wanted to talk to him. Their proximity to the Hufflepuffs had made it impossible until they started working on the Bubotubers.<p>

Finally, "Harry…I…I need to talk to you about something." Ron was looking at him nervously, as though expecting him to explode, and Harry supposed it was to be expected with recent events.

Harry offered Ron a smile. "Ok, so let's talk." He wondered what could have his friend tied up in knots when ordinarily Ron was content to spill everything on his mind at any given moment.

Ron looked so relieved that Harry felt bad for his behavior the previous day. Ron kept his voice low, "It's about Lavender." Harry frowned, shooting a glance across the greenhouse to the girl in question, a Gryffindor. He wasn't sure what Ron could possibly be going to say about her. They'd barely exchanged a handful of words.

Ron continued. "She's been sending me letters." Harry felt his eyebrows rise at this. When? When had she sent him letters? "I was going to tell you at the World Cup, but then…well. And then I was going to tell you once things had settled down at home, and then…"

And then Harry had had his growth spurt, and again attention was on him. The Gryffindors largely had accepted the new Harry after a few initial good-natured jibes. Everyone just assumed he had had a growth spurt over the summer—not overnight. Harry felt bad that he hadn't known this was going on with Ron. He was determined to be there for his friend now.

"What was she writing you about?" Harry asked curiously, and Ron shrugged uncomfortably. Harry watched in fascination as his friend's ears turned pink.

Ron was silent for a few moments, and Harry decided to focus on pus-retrieval while he collected his thoughts. Whatever was going on, Harry thought, it was rendering his usually vocal friend speechless.

At last, "At first it was just "Hey Ron, how's your summer?", and I thought "wow, that's nice that a girl is actually talking to me"." Ron shrugged sheepishly, and Harry hid a grin. "So I decided I'd write her back, you know, just for something to do." Harry nodded, waiting for Ron to continue. "Now though, I think she thinks we're together." Ron's ears turned pink again and his eyes were very carefully studying his shoes. "After the welcoming feast she pulled me behind that witch on the third floor and kissed me." The words came out so low and fast that Harry wasn't at first certain he had heard right.

"She kissed you?" He asked, just to clarify. He was shocked, but he tried to keep that reaction out of his voice knowing how insecure Ron felt about himself.

Ron's eyes crept up to meet his. "Yeah." Harry could see the uncertainty there, but he didn't know what to tell his friend. What did you say in a situation like this?

"Well do you like her?" Harry settled on. He thought that was a safe enough question.

Ron looked somewhat bashful, which Harry hadn't thought possible, as he squeezed a bubotuber into a container. "Erm, I guess…I mean, I think I do." Ron glanced around anxiously then and stared at Harry.

"But what about Hermione?" Came Ron's voice pitched low.

Harry frowned. "What about her?" Harry felt lost as Ron' rolled his blue eyes in desperate exasperation.

"Don't you know anything Harry?" Ron exclaimed, "Hermione's been in love with me since we were first years!"

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><p><strong>Greye's Notes:<strong> Stopping it there is a little dramatic for me, but I thought a side interest while we wait for Fleur was in order.

Speaking of Fleur, she made an appearance this chapter, hurray! This chapter was meant to progress her and Harry's relationship just a little. Now they're writing to one another. And remember, not everything I do will be in canon.

I'm very sorry about the wait you had to endure on this one. A lot was happening to me all at once and, well. Here we are. I'm not the most reliable author at the moment, but I _will _update. Rest assured.

Most importantly, thank you, thank you, thank you, to my most excellent reviewers and to all of the wonderful people who have followed and/or favorited this story! I am so happy you have enjoyed it thus far, and I hope you continue to like it.


	9. Girls, Girls, Girls

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Harry Potter, I'd be out living my life and having a grand old time. Since I don't, I'm here writing a fanfiction for all of you, and for me.

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><p>Harry had been so shocked by Ron's claim that he hadn't been able to give Ron much of a response the rest of Herbology. And they certainly couldn't talk about it during Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins. That left lunch, but they were sitting with Hermione during that too. Harry couldn't even meet her eyes as he thought of Ron's ludicrous claim.<p>

Or was it ludicrous?

Harry hadn't really thought of it, but maybe Hermione did actually like Ron. He shot a side glance at his friend and watched as he stuffed his face full of sausages and shook his head slightly. No, Harry thought, he didn't think Hermione liked Ron in that way. At least, he doubted she was _in love_ with Ron. And if she ever found out Ron thought so… Harry shivered.

Harry was so preoccupied that he didn't even get as angry as he normally would have when Professor Trelawney did indeed predict his death…again. After Divination though, Harry drew Ron aside.

"Ron, I don't think you've quite got this right. I'm pretty sure that Hermione is not in love with you." He kept his voice low, even though he was sure no one else was around. Ron shook his head insistently.

"Harry, haven't you noticed? She's always hanging around us. At first I thought maybe it was you she liked, but since she hasn't said anything, I figure it must be me. Why else would she be around?" Ron's expression was so earnest, so oblivious, that Harry had to work really hard not to groan aloud at his friend's foolishness.

"Ron, she's our _friend._ A girl doesn't have to be in love with a boy to want to hang out with him!" Harry wasn't even sure what else he could say about that, for it seemed so obvious to him. Ron was frowning.

"Well, that's not what Charlie always said," Ron asserted, "And I reckon that he knows a sight more about girls than you do!" His voice was firm, but Harry was still shaking his head.

It was still so strange to be looking down on Ron like this he thought, their heights had always been reversed. "Ron, don't you think if Hermione were in love with you, she'd have said something by now?" He tried to be reasonable about it, but Ron was being completely unreasonable.

"C'mon Harry, don't be thick!" Harry rolled his eyes. "Why else would she hang around us? At first I thought it was you, but now I'm sure it's not you. She didn't seem jealous at all when you were making eyes at Cho Chang last year." Ron was so far gone in his explanation that he missed Harry's sudden blush. "Besides, girl's are shy about that stuff sometimes." Ron's voice had suddenly become rather worldly, and Harry stifled a snigger.

"Ron, either way Hermione would want you to be happy." Harry tried another tact. Perhaps he couldn't convince Ron of Hermione's platonic feelings, but he could convince him to take advantage of a girl who certainly did seem to like him. "I think you should give it a try with Lavender. If you like her, go for it. Don't worry about Hermione." Harry hesitated, and glanced around. He really didn't want Hermione to hear this next part, "I'll tell you what. If it looks like Hermione is getting upset, I'll talk to her."

Ron let out a relieved breath and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "That's all I wanted mate! I'm glad you're behind me on this one. I'm going to and find Lavender now." Harry watched as Ron retreated down the stairwell, humming happily to himself. He shook his head. He had no idea how Ron had got it into his head that Hermione liked him.

Not that there was anything wrong with his friend, but Harry was certain that Ron was nowhere near Hermione's type. Crisis momentarily averted, Harry returned to the common room.

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><p>As he clambered through the portrait hole, he heard a familiar voice call his name.<p>

"Hiya Harry!" It was Neville. Harry smiled at the other boy. It was hard not to like Neville. His fellow Gryffindor was so kind and gentle, Harry had used to wonder why he had ended up in Gryffindor at all. Neville's inner courage and strength had been revealed his very first year though, when Neville had stood up to Harry and his friends when they had been sneaking out of the tower again. Though Neville hadn't known what was going on, he had still made a stand against three more powerful students. Well, Harry thought ruefully, maybe only two.

Even so, Harry had a deep respect and liking for Neville. "Is there something you needed Neville?" Harry asked, "I'm free if you need help with something." If it was potions though, Harry doubted he could be much help.

Neville was smiling at him eagerly, and Harry couldn't help smiling back. "Actually Harry, I wanted to ask you something." Suddenly Neville seemed shy and unsure of himself. Harry frowned. What was he going to ask?

"Of course," Harry said slowly, "You can ask me anything you want." Neville glanced around the room nervously, but they were alone. The other Gryffindors hadn't as yet made their way back to the Tower.

The other boy took a breath. "Harry, do you think Ginny'd go to the ball with me if I asked her?" His voice was shaky, and his eyes were on the ground, but Harry could hear the earnestness in his voice.

Harry stared at Neville blankly. "Erm…ball?" What on earth was Neville talking about?

At Harry's confusion, Neville immediately looked up. "Oh, I forgot you wouldn't know. My Gran knows a lot about the Triwizard Tournament, and told me in a letter that there would be a formal ball for all of the students. She expects me to escort a girl and…well. Harry I'm hopeless with girls!" Neville's voice ended in a pitiful wail that had Harry stepping forward with a wince, making shooshing motions.

"Calm down Neville! We'll figure it out. A ball, eh? I wonder when the teachers were going to tell us about that." Harry tilted his head, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone, "I guess that's why we were supposed to bring dress robes…" He paused, thinking. "Neville, do you actually want to take Ginny?"

Neville nodded frantically. "I've liked her since she came last year. She's so pretty, and funny. She's also really strong. I've heard the teachers talking about her…" Neville swallowed nervously. "But I don't think she'd go with me. Can you help me Harry?"

Harry took in a breath and surveyed his friend. Harry wasn't an expert on Ginny even though, according to her brother Ron, Ginny had been in love with him since forever. He did have an idea of what might attract her attention though. "Neville, I'm going to help you. Let me think on it. I'll come find you when I have a plan. Don't stress yourself out though—it's not even October yet." Neville nodded in agreement, practically rocking on the balls of his feet in his excitement.

"Thank you Harry! I really owe you one." Harry shook his head, and just headed for the stairs up to their room. A ball. His thoughts immediately strayed to Fleur. Harry was sure she was a perfect dancer…he could almost imagine her in a flawless dress with her beautiful, silvery hair and blue eyes.

Harry sighed, pushing the door open. It would be a perfect opportunity to get to know Fleur better, he thought, to go with her to the ball. Harry wanted to know her. The Bond between them was growing, he knew. He could almost feel something inside of himself—a link he didn't know how to reach the end of.

When Harry stepped around the end of Ron's bed to his own, he was startled to find Hedwig sitting on his pillow.

"Hey girl! How did you get in?" Harry glanced at the window and was surprised to find it open. "Hmm. I thought I'd closed that." Realization poured over Harry all at once, and he raced over to Hedwig, roughly pulling the note from her leg and causing her to squawk in indignation.

"Sorry girl, I have to read this! It's from her, I know it is!" His heart pounding in his chest, Harry tore into Fleur's letter and read eagerly:

_Dear Harry,_

_I will admit that I am shocked anyone would be so bold as to do what you say your friend's mother has done. I wonder if she realizes the damage this has caused, for both of us. You didn't say in your letter, Harry, but I am sure that you have had struggles at school similar to my own thanks to this news article._

_You say that you have aged. I will speak to my father about that—I have never known the Bond to manifest itself like that, but I have also never known anyone in our particular situation. It could be as you say, that the Bond was making up for the difference in our ages. In which case, I am sorry Harry. You said you don't mind, but I'm still sorry that this has happened to you._

_The Triwizard Tournament is very dangerous, but I don't have a choice about entering. My headmistress is using me to lever attention and support from my father and certain…circumstances prevent me from admitting to him that I would rather not enter this competition. The only thing that makes the prospect of competing in this…Tournament…bearable is the thought that you will be there._

_Nothing exciting has happened to me as a result of the Bond, at least not that I've noticed. I do feel something, though. Like a part of me is stretched very far away, and I'm trying to pull it back. I wonder if you feel that too? A hollowness that was once full…_

_Take care of yourself Harry. I will see you in a couple of months._

_Fleur_

Harry gazed at her elegant script, reading her words over and over. _The only thing that makes the prospect of competing bearable…is the thought that you will be there…_ Harry felt warm inside, truly happy for the first time since he had gotten Fleur's last letter. He read over her words yet again, lingering over the feeling she described. "Yes…" Harry mused aloud. That was definitely one way to consider the link he felt.

Harry carefully, regretfully folded her letter back up and slipped it into his trunk next to the last. He glanced at his tired owl ruefully. She wouldn't be up for another flight for a few days. He dug out some owl nuts for her and handed them to her as a peace offering. "Sorry Hedwig," he apologized again. "I got a little crazy there." She nipped his finger affectionately and accepted the nuts before flying out the window.

Harry watched her fly away, and wondered what Fleur would learn from her father.

* * *

><p>Fleur sat impatiently in her father's office. It was a Saturday, so she didn't have any classes, but Fleur had been waiting for an hour now to speak to her father. She wondered what could possibly be going on that would keep him away like this.<p>

She leaned back in her chair across from his desk, trying to relax. Her blue eyes slid closed as she began to count her breaths—a technique her mother had taught her to use when she was feeling frustrated. As her emotions slowly came back under her control, Fleur admitted to herself that she was really upset because she hadn't heard from Harry in several days—not since she had sent her response back to him with the snowy owl. Perhaps her message had been too forward, or maybe it hadn't reached him at all. Her teeth worried her bottom lip as she considered the possibilities.

Or maybe he just didn't care to respond.

Fleur swallowed painfully. "This is so stupid." She muttered to herself half-heartedly. And yet, she couldn't help but be extremely disappointed by the possibility that Harry just didn't care that much about their correspondence. Or, by extension, her. It was his right not to care, she reminded herself. She shouldn't waste her time worrying about him either, no matter the Bond that was slowly developing between them. Fleur could feel whatever it was strengthening every day. She could not feel Harry himself, but she knew they were connected.

The door behind her suddenly banged open, and Fleur jumped at the sudden interruption of her thoughts. She turned in her chair and saw her father backing into his office with a rather large box in his arms. She frowned. Was the box…growling? Evidently it was heavy, for she could hear the Minister grunting with effort as he moved to the other side of the room. Fleur got up hesitantly.

"Can I…?" But her father just waved her off and managed to set the box down on his own by the window. As soon as he stepped away from it, the growling ceased. He smiled wearily at Fleur and slumped into the chair behind his desk.

"Hello my dear. Sorry for the wait, had a little trouble in our Muggle Artifacts office. Apparently, some joker thinks it's funny to send the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office a biting teapot. Poor chap lost a finger before we could get it off him!" Fleur gasped at this revelation, but her father was laughing. _Laughing._ "Best fun I've had all year!" Seeing the expression on his daughter's face, he quickly sobered. "Not to worry, Maurice will be okay. They can do anything at St. Lungo's these days. I just loathe the man so…" Remembering that Fleur had actually come to see him about something, he trailed off and sat up a bit straighter.

"Nevermind about that. What was it you needed?" Jefferoi Delacour was nothing if not an attentive father, and he knew something must be really troubling his daughter if she would come to seek him out at the Ministry. Fleur really abhorred politics.

Fleur took a breath, readying herself. She would have preferred to speak to her mother about this particular matter, but she was still sickly and Fleur did not want to trouble her if she could avoid it.

"Papa, I have come to ask you some questions about the Bond I now share with Harry Potter." She risked a glance at her father, and saw the skin around his eyes tighten faintly.

Jefferoi chose his words carefully, recognizing this as a sensitive subject…for both of them. The formal tone Fleur was taking with him was a clue as well. "Fleur, I will answer what I can. I am not Veela, however, and can only tell you what I know of my own experience with your mother. Ask away." He didn't want her to think that he was an authority on the subject, but he would certainly try to help.

This wasn't exactly the response Fleur was expecting, but she nodded. She just hoped her father had a little insight that he could share.

"Harry has grown, Papa." She decided she'd just come right out with it. Jefferoi blinked, and raised his eyebrows. Fleur fought a faint blush. "I mean, he and I have been exchanging letters…" Her father's eyebrows climbed higher and Fleur couldn't help blushing furiously. "Papa! I'm trying to be serious. He told me that he grew overnight. He is taller…he is not in the body of a 14-year-old boy anymore." Fleur paused, glancing at her father, before resuming. "I didn't know what to tell him, because I have never heard of that happening." Fleur hoped her father would catch that she didn't know anything beyond that.

Jefferoi didn't become Minister for nothing. He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "Well, this does sound in keeping with the Bond's tradition of equalizing partners…" Fleur leaned forward, "However." She frowned. Jefferoi looked up and met his daughter's eyes seriously. "There has never, that I can recall, been a bondmate as young as Harry Potter. Age is not usually an issue." He fell silent, and Fleur waited anxiously. All of this she had assumed for herself. She needed to know what else to expect.

"There has also," her father suddenly continued, "never been a bondmate quite like Harry Potter, also known as the Boy-Who-Lived. It is generally assumed that he is very powerful, or has the potential to become powerful." Jefferoi looked up at Fleur. "I would warn Harry to be careful of his spellwork for a while. He has grown physically. I would not be surprised if he now has the spell capacity of a 17-year-old as well. With his own increased power, his spells may well be exponentially more powerful." Jefferoi got up from behind his desk and walked around until he was sitting next to Fleur. "Remember also Fleur, that what happens to one of you, happens to both of you."

Fleur frowned, unsure exactly what he meant. She knew to tell Harry that his spells would probably seem supercharged for a while. Did that mean that her own spell power may be affected? As if reading her thoughts, her father continued, "Be careful for a time when doing spells of your own. I don't know exactly what the effect will be on you, but the Bond usually tries to make partners as equal as possible. If Harry is more powerful, it could be that you are as well." Jefferoi leaned back, finished.

Fleur was quiet for a moment, and then "Thank you Papa. You have given me some answers. I have to go and tell Harry now." Jefferoi nodded and watched as Fleur got up to leave. His voice stopped her.

"Fleur, be careful. The Bond is different in every couple. Be very attentive to it." Fleur nodded in understanding, and slipped out of his office. Jefferoi stared at his desk absently long after Fleur had gone, remembering his own start with the Bond. The sudden rattle of the biting teapot snapped him out of it—he was Minister. There was work to be done.

* * *

><p><strong>Greye's Notes:<strong> Okay my wonderful followers and reviewers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I know, it was a lot of information, but I hope there was some fun in there too. Girl troubles all around! Now, some of you asked if I could put up an expected publish date for my chapters. My life's a bit hectic at the moment, but I feel confident in saying that I will be able to post a new chapter every week to two weeks. I know that's a potentially long time, but it often takes me a long time to write these. I hope that you will stick with me and enjoy the reading!

Some people also seemed concerned that Hermione is actually in love with Ron right now. Perhaps I can now put your minds at ease—Hermione will not at this point be in love with Ron. It may happen later, but certainly not right now. This is just Ron being…well, Ron.

**ADDED:** I changed "St. Mungo's" to "St. Lungo's" because, as a few of you brought to my attention, it's not necessarily likely that French witches and wizards would use an English hospital.


	10. Reunited AT LAST

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is not mine! Alas!

**Greye's Notes:** Hey everyone, I am sorry this chapter took such a long time. I have been traveling a lot of late, and I now have three jobs, which leaves much less time to devote to writing than I would like. Please don't think I've abandoned this story, because I haven't! Also, this particular chapter has been the hardest one to write thus far—it took me a long time to decide how I was going to go about reuniting Harry and Fleur, as you all can attest. I hope you like my latest installment.

On a different note, not everything is going to be perfectly in canon—I am doing the best I can on that score, but it probably won't be perfect, and some things have been left out for the sake of expediency.

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><p>Harry was outside by the lake when Hedwig found him with Fleur's latest letter. It had been nearly a week since Harry had sent his own letter, and he had been worrying for days over her silence. Seeing Hedwig now he felt himself growing excited. "Here girl!" He called up to the snowy owl, standing up from the spot he had been reclining in. Harry held his arm out, and Hedwig swooped around and made a soft landing. He gently pulled the letter from her leg, and helped her launch away again.<p>

Harry forced himself to sit back down again before opening the letter.

_Harry,_

_I am so sorry for the delay with this letter. Things at school have been difficult of late, and it took some time to get hold of my father to ask him about your growth spurt._

_My father confirms your theory that the Bond is making us "equal". He also says to be very careful, as your spellwork may be suddenly enhanced in power. It will be like being supercharged for a while, until you get used to it._

Harry paused reading that, amusement making him laugh a little. Just two days past Harry had had cause to find out for himself just how much more potent his magic was. It had been during Transfiguration, when Professor McGonagall had asked for them to turn a hedgehog into a pincushion. Harry's casting was all too effective. His hedgehog turned into a pincushion alright—a pincushion that fairly bristled with pins it was all too happy to shoot at anyone who got near it. Everyone but McGonagall herself got stuck at least once while the professor subdued it. He grinned faintly. It had been a rather painful experience, but it was funny now remembering Ron with a pin sticking out of his nose.

Ever since, Harry had been exceedingly careful with the spells he cast, trying to get a feel for his new level of power. To say he was still having issues was an understatement. Harry shook his head and continued reading.

_Harry, it pains me to write this, but I think our correspondence must stop for now. Madame Maxime is taking those of us permitted to enter the tournament on a trip that will culminate with us arriving at your school. I do not know where we are going, or what we will be doing, but I do know that message by owl will be impossible._

_I shall see you and speak to you at the start of the TriWizard Tournament. Please be careful of yourself, and I will do the same. I can feel our Bond growing stronger every day, and my father says it might manifest itself in all kinds of different ways. The way our Bonding occurred was very non-traditional as well, so there is no telling what the magic will do. We will have to wait and see._

_Fleur_

Harry scanned her words again, the bottom dropping out of his stomach. Not contact her anymore? Harry stared blankly out over the lake, barely noting the giant squid now sunning itself alarmingly near him by the shore. Harry didn't want to stop writing to Fleur—it was the only thing keeping him sane. The Bond was like an ever growing itch he could not scratch, and it was developing into a pain he could not relieve. The letters were like little pressure valves that arrived just in time to let off enough steam to keep him from bursting. Now though…Harry flopped backwards onto the grass and stared up at the blue sky.

"A trip…?" He muttered. What was Madame Maxime doing with her students? Harry closed his eyes, trying not to feel overwhelmingly dejected. He would be seeing her in a few weeks for the TriWizard Tournament, he reminded himself. That time seemed unbearably far away, though.

* * *

><p>Ron and Hermione were exasperated.<p>

Harry knew he wasn't being a great friend, being as distracted as he was, but he tried at least to do the things he had said he'd do. Neville, bless him, hadn't pushed him about talking to Ginny, but Harry knew he had better get a move on. The Tournament would commence that night.

After his last class of the day with Hagrid, Harry hurried back to the common room to find his best friend's sister. Hagrid's hut was a good distance from the school, and he had to hurry if he was to talk to Ginny before the arrival of the delegations. As Harry clambered through the portrait hole he espied one of Ginny's friends, Susan, standing by the fire. Harry hurried over to her.

"Hey Susan." He greeted. Susan jumped, startled, and spun to stare at him with wide eyes. Harry frowned faintly, surprised at her reaction. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you…"

Susan swallowed, a faint blush highlighting her cheeks. "Oh..no. No! You didn't…erm…I'm just…jumpy." Her voice quavered slightly, and her blush deepened. Harry suddenly felt supremely uncomfortable. People had been acting strangely toward him all semester.

"Erm…yeah. Susan, I'm looking for Ginny. Have you seen her?" Harry wasn't one to beat around the bush. Susan frowned, her blush clearing as she considered his question.

"Ginny? I've not seen her much today, but I think she said yesterday that she had to finish an essay for McGonagall. She wanted to finish it before tonight." Harry felt a tingle at those words. "She's probably in the library."

"Thanks Susan, I appreciate the help!" Thinking of other things, Harry turned and walked back out the portrait hole, irritating the Fat Lady as he did so. He waved a hand at her as he went by, apologizing over his shoulder.

* * *

><p>Harry found Ginny with her head buried in an advanced Transfiguration book. <em>Transforming Your Body<em>. Well. That was simple. Harry plopped down in the seat next to Ginny. She jumped, squealing a little at his sudden appearance, and flushing as red as her hair.

"H-_Harry!_ That's _not_ funny!" She said indignantly. Harry kept laughing. Ginny's scolding sounded so like Hermione that he laughed harder. He could almost see Hermione stamping her foot.

"Sorry Ginny, couldn't help myself." Harry took in a steadying breath and watched as Ginny calmed down, setting her book down primly. Another Hermione-like move. They were spending way too much time together, Harry thought.

"I might've hexed you, you know," Ginny said. Harry did know—it was common knowledge that she was becoming extremely proficient with the Bat Bogey Hex, along with a host of other even less pleasant ones. Her brush with Tom Riddle had left her with a desire to be ready for anything—an aspiration that Harry could admire. Most of the time.

"I know," Harry responded seriously. "I'm glad you didn't." Ginny looked somewhat mollified, so he continued. Originally, Harry had thought that he would set something up so that Neville could ask Ginny himself, but now there wasn't time. He allowed himself a moment of guilt before moving on. "I didn't just come here to scare you." He grinned at her glare. "Actually, I came to talk to you about Neville."

Ginny looked at him askance, before finally frowning. "Neville?" Her voice was questioning. Harry nodded.

"Yeah. What do you think of him?" Harry almost winced as soon as he said it, recognizing it for the cliché statement it was, but managed to keep a straight face.

Her brow still furrowed, Ginny thought about it. What did she think? She really barely knew him. She knew most of the 4th year boys through Ron, but Neville had always been an enigma. Quiet and shy. "Em…he seems nice?" She said doubtfully.

Harry had been hoping for a little more enthusiasm, but plunged on anyway. Neville needed to know one way or another.

"Ginny, this Tournament—during it, I mean—there's going to be a ball. He's really shy and nervous, so that's why he asked me—Neville did—to ask you if you would like to go with him." Harry felt nervous on Neville's behalf. "He fancies you." He added.

Ginny stared at him for a full minute, and Harry was thinking of ways to break the news to Neville when a shy, hesitant smile crept across her face.

"Yes…" She said quietly, her voice reminiscent of first year Ginny's, "I think I would like that. Tell him yes, will you Harry?"

Harry got up then, smiling broadly at Ginny. "Neville's a great guy. I know you guys will have fun!" He said by way of ending. He headed out of the library already smiling softly about his own special someone. He could feel the distance between them closing, and hurried back to the common room to get changed for dinner.

* * *

><p>Fleur's heart was pounding as she at last climbed down from the Beauxbaton's carriage. They had been confined until the great feast, and she had been sitting still, unable to interact with anyone for the duration. Deep inside she fairly thrummed with the knowledge of his presence. It was a new, special agony to know she was so close, yet could not see him. The letters hadn't been close enough, but the distance had helped to dull what she was now feeling as a searing yearning.<p>

Now that they had arrived it was only through strict discipline that she was able to keep from bursting from the carriage.

Fleur flattened her pale blue silk skirts with a hand absentmindedly, trying not to let Madame Maxime catch her eye as they walked up to the castle.

And wow, what a castle it was! Straight from Medieval England, Fleur thought. It was rough in the way that all ancient structures were, heavy with years and stories. Fierce stone gargoyles guarded the crenellations, a potential deterrent to visitors, and yet it felt as though Hogwarts were welcoming her. Perhaps because _he_ was there. Whatever the reason, Fleur liked it. It was nothing like the pristine, white elegance of Beaxbatons, but it felt like it was meant to be a home, unlike her school.

Fleur took a deep breath as they entered the castle and met a tall, severe looking woman who asked them to wait. Fleur fidgeted uncharacteristically, and ignored the looks of her classmates. Her eyes were riveted on the doors of what she presumed to be the Great Hall. Harry had written much about it when she had requested that he describe the castle for her. She knew from the passion of his words that this was his home.

Fleur tried to remember what they were all supposed to do, and couldn't. She'd just follow along, she decided. Her eyes were still fixed on the doors as Professor McGonagall, she belatedly recognized from Harry's letters, lifted an arm towards them. The doors opened silently on well oiled hinges, and Fleur found herself staring at a sea of faces in a very Gothic Great Hall. She felt a tug, urging her eyes over to the flood of red and gold, but she couldn't find him from here.

Madame Maxime nodded, and the girls in front of her flowed elegantly into the hall, movements echoed by flights of doves. Doves? Fleur quickly fell in line and murmured the words, feeling the birds come into being around her. With every step she felt him. Closer…closer.

Her body suddenly would not let her take another step, and she knew that if she did it would be pulling her away from him. In the back of her mind Fleur felt that their Bond was going a little overboard with the dramatics, but she had no control just then. She forgot what she was supposed to be doing.

Her head turned of its own accord, sapphire eyes fastening on a figure rising from a bench, and now vaulting a table. He was _tall_, she registered first. Her eyes tracked over his thick, messy black hair, his features that seemed so familiar though she had only seen him twice before. Her throat was full when she was his green eyes—she couldn't get his name out, and she didn't try.

They stopped mere inches from each other, and Fleur found herself looking _up_ at him. He looked so much older. Being so close was such sweet relief and agony all rolled into one.

Harry slowly lifted a hand, as if there were weights pulling it down and rested it on her arm.

Fire. Sweet fire raced from his fingers, and Fleur gasped. That breath allowed her one word.

"Harry." She breathed. She slid into him, her arms slipping snuggly around him even as his encircled her. She rested her head against his shoulder and sighed in relief as the world slid back into place. Deep inside, something _clicked_. It was as if she were whole again, in his arms and with her arms around him.

* * *

><p>Finally. <em>Finally.<em> Harry had been waiting for years it seemed, instead of a few short weeks. At last, Fleur was here and in his arms. He dimly remembered seeing her immediately as the doors to the Great Hall had opened, enraptured as he was struck again by her beauty and grace. At last, as she drew ever nearer, Harry had gotten up. Impatient with the table in his way, he had vaulted it—ignoring his irritated classmates-and used his lengthened stride to cover the ground between them.

He felt it when her eyes locked with his and he stopped, only a hand's breadth from her, and swallowed. His heart was beating erratically, and he wanted so very much to touch her. A part of his mind was yelling at him that it wasn't supposed to be this way—that this was too fast, and all these feelings weren't really his. But Harry dismissed that part of himself. The Bond had only sharpened what was already there.

Hesitantly, he lifted his hand and rested it on her arm. He sucked in a breath at the shock he felt when he touched her skin. Another breath and he had his arms around her, and she had put her arms around him in return. Harry was suddenly gladder than he had ever been for his sudden growth spurt. Fleur was a tall woman, and his added height meant that they fit well together. As his arms settled around her securely, Harry sighed. His name on her lips was the only sound he ever wanted to hear again. "Fleur." He responded quietly. Fleur shivered slightly at the sound of his voice.

That was about when the world came rushing back to them both. Harry blinked and looked around, his face suddenly heating as he realized that everyone in the hall was looking at them. The professors, the Hogwarts students, and the Beauxbatons students. He could even see the Hogwarts ghosts watching them with expressions that ranged between bemused, appalled, unimpressed, and delighted. The Durmstrang students at least, he thought with little comfort, weren't in the hall yet.

His heart sank as his eyes tracked Professors Snape, Dumbledore, and McGonagall marching towards them with whom he could only assume was Madame Maxime approaching from their other side. Only Dumbledore's eyes seemed to twinkle with curiosity, and maybe amusement. Harry quailed to think what the other three were thinking.

A quiet sigh from Fleur reminded Harry of their predicament. "Fleur…" He murmured quietly, his heart starting to race again. "They're coming for us." His tone of voice, more than his words, alerted Fleur to the potential situation. She raised her head and looked around with her own growing alarm. She swallowed.

A part of her wanted to just hold Harry that much tighter, but the rational part of her mind convinced her that it was for the best that they let go of each other for now. She glanced back up into Harry's green eyes and saw that he had come to the same decision.

At the same time, they stepped back from one another.

They both promptly tripped, and fell over—their arms still securely wrapped around each other.

"Ah!" A startled cry left Harry as he landed flat on his back, Fleur sprawled on top of him. She groaned, her arms partially trapped underneath him. Harry immediately sat up, feeling a phantom ache in his own arms where hers no doubt were hurting.

Fleur blushed brightly as she found herself straddling Harry's lap, her skirts bunched up around her hips and revealing more leg than she normally did outside of a swimsuit.

"_Potter!_" Snape hissed furiously. "How dare you assault a Beauxbaton's student! Get away from her this instant!" He had pulled his wand, evidently prepared to use force.

"Severus, I hardly think force will be necessary!" Came McGonagall's irritated voice. "But really Potter, this is hardly a decent display!" Dumbledore had yet to say anything, just watching the proceedings.

Harry struggled to get up, trying to let go of Fleur as he did so. His own face bright red by now as well. Fleur helped as best she could, but found it just as impossible to release Harry. When they were both standing, faces red and feeling the scrutiny of the entire hall, they turned to watch their mentors apprehensively.

It was Madame Maxime who finally stepped forward. "Oh for heaven's sake! Let go of that boy Fleur. You're making a spectacle." Fleur glanced away, unsure how to explain their situation. Harry frowned at Madame Maxime. He didn't like the way she spoke to Fleur.

"With all due respect professors…we can't."

The hall erupted into whispers around them, and the professors, headmaster, and headmistress stared at them in disbelief.

"Forgive me, Harry," Dumbledore's soft voice was enough to silence the entire hall. "But what do you mean, you "can't"?" His eyebrows were lifted merely in inquiry, but everyone held their breath for Harry's response.

Harry took a deep breath, tightening his arms around Fleur as he did so—he felt her squeeze him in return. "What I mean sir," he said, his voice surprisingly steady, "Is that we physically cannot let go."

* * *

><p><strong>Notes:<strong> That's all for now! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Harry and Fleur are together again at last! But for how long? Sorry to leave you like this, but I do plan to update again soon to resolve this.

Thanks to those of you who PMed me (some of you more than once!) to ask about the status of this story. It means a lot to me that you liked it enough to keep asking after it. Thank you all for your continued interest. Also a special thanks to Moon's Lullaby, my sister and unofficial beta.


	11. Let's Get Out of Here

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing! Sure wish I did.

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><p>Ron and Hermione had risen when they had first seen their friend topple over. Hermione blushed and Ron grinned at the awkward state Harry and Fleur found themselves in. Hermione's eyes slid to the side and saw the gleeful look on Ron's face. She elbowed him hard in the stomach. "<em>Ron!"<em> she hissed, "This is hardly funny."

Ron grunted in pain and shot a wounded look at Hermione. "I wasn't laughing…" He responded somewhat petulantly. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You might as well have been." She grumbled. She watched in wincing sympathy as Harry and Fleur struggled to get up. This was likely not going to end well for her friend.

Ron huffed next to her. "It was a _little_ funny…" He mumbled.

* * *

><p>Harry meanwhile, could feel an edge of defiance creeping into him as his professors stared at him in dumbfounded silence. At last, Snape stepped forward.<p>

"None of you believe this…this…rubbish!" He addressed the other adults. "Of course the boy would say that; he's a filthy liar just like his father." The disgust in Snape's voice made Harry bristle and he glared at the Potion's Master hatefully. Snape returned the look in kind, his lip curled faintly. Harry wished he could let go of Fleur for a moment so he could wipe that look off his face.

Suddenly startled by the ferocity of his own emotions, Harry reigned himself back a bit and glanced at Fleur. She was glaring every bit as intensely at Snape. Harry couldn't help a faint smile as he realized what had happened: her anger had fed his. He could _feel_ her emotions now, holding her so closely. It was hard to distinguish where her feelings left off and his began…

Fleur turned when she felt his emotions change and found him smiling at her. She smiled somewhat bashfully in return, also now recognizing what had happened.

A voice clearing itself was enough to break them from their reverie, and they turned to look at a stern faced McGonagall.

"Harry," she began, "This is…most unusual," Before she could say more, another voice broke in.

"'Unusual'?" bellowed Madame Maxime, "You call your student blatantly molesting mine 'UNUSUAL'?" The large woman took in a deep breath to deliver a resounding rebuke, but this time it was Fleur's silvery voice that cut in.

"Madame, please do not take this the wrong way but…'arry is in no way 'molesting' me." Her voice was quiet, and firm, but Harry could feel her anger at this assumption against him. And maybe…anger that even his own professors assumed he was at fault here. "If anything, we both feel more at peace this way than we have in weeks. We are Bonded, you see. Ours was an unusual Bonding, and this manifestation is no doubt connected to that. I am sure that given a little time, this magnetic pull between us will lessen enough that we can release each other." Fleur didn't add that she didn't necessarily _want_ to let go of Harry. At least not yet. As if in response to this unspoken desire, she felt herself being pulled tighter against Harry—the Bond had heard her, she thought, blushing. She felt something inside Harry stir and glanced up. Looking into his eyes, she realized that he had been the one to pull her tighter. She couldn't help smiling brilliantly at him, pleased by his desire to hold onto her too.

With some effort, they both turned back to look at the assembled professors and studiously ignored the other students. At last, it was Dumbledore who took the floor.

"Veela blood then, I daresay. Very well, Mr. Potter, Miss Delacour. I think then it would be for the best that you both make your way to the hospital wing. If this thing sorts itself out on the way there, then feel free to come on back. If not, then after the welcoming feast one of us will come and find you with further instructions." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled merrily, and Harry had a feeling that the headmaster viewed all of this as some excellent joke. But Harry also saw this as a much needed escape.

"Thank you, Professor. We will do that." Harry ignored Snape's protestations and met Fleur's look with his own.

"How are we going to do this Harry?" Fleur asked. She might have more years of schooling on Harry, but she had not had many bizarre situations she had to figure out a solution for. She could see he was thinking hard behind his green eyes. When they suddenly brightened, she knew he had thought of something.

Harry took a breath, "The Bond won't let us let go…but maybe it'll let us change positions or something." As if in response, they both felt the magnetic pull between them ease somewhat. Harry grinned. "Next, I need you to do a summoning charm for me. I'm not so great at them myself yet, even being somewhat supercharged now." Fleur frowned.

"Of course," she responded, "But what do you need?" She was puzzled.

Harry raised his eyebrows, "My Firebolt. If we can shift you around in front or behind me, we can fly out of here without risking another trip and fall." Harry grinned, pleased that he could come up with a solution.

This was a brilliant plan, Fleur thought, with only one problem.

She took in a breath regretfully, "Harry, a broomstick is a magical item. It belongs to you, so I won't be able to summon it." If witches and wizards could summon magical items, theft crime rates would be unimaginably high. At Harry's mischievous grin, she saw that he had thought of a way around this.

Harry nodded, "That's true, between normal people." He deliberately looked from her, to himself. "You and I though, we are bonded. Right now, in the magic and physical sense. Why not in the material as well? What is mine is yours now too Fleur." He gazed at her earnestly. This was beyond the magic now, they both knew. This was a boy, offering everything he had left to offer, to a girl.

Fleur swallowed, her throat tight at this unexpected display of generosity and…something else? "Harry I…I couldn't possibly…" He was already shaking his head.

"It is done. I have said the words. Now, summon our ride out of here." His voice was quiet, for her ears only, and she could hear the affection in it. They definitely had a lot to figure out. Preferably when they weren't clinging to each other, with emotions running high—and sometimes mixing—in the middle of Hogwarts' Great Hall.

"Alright." She finally acquiesced. Fleur pulled out her wand and gave it an elegant flick. "_Accio Harry's Firebolt!"_ She murmured. For several moments, nothing happened. Then the doors to the Great Hall opened and in sped one truly magnificent racing broom. Fleur could feel Harry grinning broadly beside her, and he in turn could feel her astonishment that this had worked.

The broom came to a quivering halt beside her, and Fleur appraised it with a keen eye. "This is a magnificent broom Harry," she said. She could tell by its streamlined form that it was built for speed with a capital S.

Harry grinned. "A gift from my godfather." It took a little shuffling, but they finally decided that this would work easiest with Fleur sitting in front of Harry, because the Bond seemed to prefer as much mutual contact between them as possible. It went unspoken that they both rather did too.

"You have flown before, right Fleur?" Harry asked. He would be able to help her if she needed it, he knew, thanks to his longer height and reach, but it would be easier if she was already a proficient flier.

Fleur had gotten herself settled on the broom in such a way that her skirts wouldn't fly up around her as they flew, and waited until she felt Harry get settled before responding. The way his arms slipped so easily around her felt wonderful, she thought idly. The Firebolt was only built with one passenger in mind, of course, which required Harry to sit flush behind her. Feeling his warmth around her was settling.

"Yes. Father's favorite mode of transportation is flying. Almost every family trip we have gone on has required us to fly there. I can't say I've sat many racing brooms, but I can fly." Actually, Fleur could fly pretty well. If girls were allowed to play Quidditch at Beauxbatons, perhaps she would have tried out for a team.

Harry felt inordinately pleased that Fleur knew how to fly. Probably because flying was very close to his heart…and maybe Fleur now was as well. As he got himself settled as comfortably as possible, he considered his choice to allow all of his material possessions to become hers as well.

For a long time, Harry Potter had not had much in the world to call his own. Once he began at Hogwarts, however, that began to change. His first year he had received an invisibility cloak, and a Nimbus 2000. In addition of course to Hedwig—who was truly his most prized possession. His third year he had learned that he still had family in the world in the form of Sirius Black, who had also replaced his destroyed Nimbus with a brand new Firebolt—one of the fastest racing brooms in the world.

His mother and father had left him a not insignificant fortune at Gringotts as well. So no, Harry couldn't say that he was without anything to give. But this was the first time he had ever had anyone to share those things with. A deep warmth spread through his chest, and he found himself hugging Fleur tighter against him.

It wasn't until he felt her patting his hand that he realized she had been speaking to him. "Erm, what? Sorry." He blushed, and was glad she could not see his face.

Fleur giggled quietly, a sound that didn't escape her often, "I said, are you ready?"

Harry laughed a little too. "Oh. Yes, let's go." Together they kicked off and flew out of the Great Hall. Harry was impressed by Fleur's control; he remembered his first time on the Firebolt he had ended up shooting off into the air at an incredible speed and nearly unseated himself. She was definitely a skilled flier.

"Harry," Fleur called over her shoulder, "How do we get to the hospital wing?" Harry was about to direct her when he caught a glimpse outside. The weather was perfect…

"We're not going to the hospital wing," he responded, "Let's go for a ride!" Harry directed her out the front doors and onto the grounds. "Open her up Fleur, see what this broom can really do!" Harry encouraged.

Fleur could feel Harry's enthusiasm, and she smiled. Ordinarily she wouldn't condone this type of rule breaking…but today she couldn't care. The wind was in her face, and the arms of an amazing boy were around her… Plus, she was sitting on the fastest broom in the world. How could a girl resist?

As soon as they were clear of the castle, Fleur leaned forward, urging the broom up to faster and faster heights. She felt Harry shift behind her until he was pointing at something. Her eyes focused, and she realized she was looking at the Quidditch pitch. Making a sharp turn that got a whoop from Harry, she raced out to the pitch at dizzying speed. Without warning, she turned into a corkscrew and took them through the larger of the goals. Fleur didn't need any further encouragement from Harry to try some truly spectacular stunts. Some of which didn't come out all that well—two passengers making things a little harder, but Fleur was laughing breathlessly and Harry was holding her and everything seemed right and good with the world.

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><p>When they finished their flying stunts, Harry directed Fleur over to Black Lake. There they touched down, and Harry was glad to have a chance to catch his breath. Without even realizing it, he stepped away from Fleur. Their clasped hands their only remaining contact. Harry stopped and looked at Fleur, finding her wide sapphire eyes looking equally astonished. "Well," said Harry, "Maybe just spending time together was enough." It seemed logical. Fleur nodded, thinking perhaps that was the case. Sometimes magic wasn't really complex at all.<p>

"Come on," said Harry, "We can sit over here for a little while." Still holding her hand, Harry guided her over to huge tree that was close up on the bank of the lake. Sitting beneath it, Harry gently pulled her down next to him. "I like to watch the sun set from here." He murmured. Fleur looked out over the lake and saw why. The sun was sinking behind the lake, causing a riot of colors to reflect on the still surface. It was truly beautiful.

Fleur scooted a little closer to Harry, so she could rest her head on his shoulder for a moment. It was then Harry released her hand. Fleur caught her breath, afraid she had moved too fast, but Harry just slipped his arm around her shoulders to draw her closer to him. "I'm so glad we came out here 'arry. I have…needed you so." She whispered. It was hard for her pride to admit she needed anyone. But it was the truth, and Fleur was already sure she would never lie to Harry. She didn't think she could now, even if she wanted to.

Harry hummed quietly, his heart full. Sitting here with Fleur felt so…right. Her words made him smile. "I needed you too. I don't think the magic between us would have allowed any less…but it feels so good to just sit here with you. I feel better than I have in my whole life." He felt wholly and truly alive. He should have felt nervous sitting there with Fleur, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. But Harry felt only lucky, and very, very happy. No doubt the nerves would come later, he thought ruefully.

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><p>It wasn't until nearly dark that it occurred to both of them that they should really get back. Harry stood up and reluctantly let go of Fleur. "I'll walk you back to your carriage." He said, trying not to sound too disappointed. Fleur smiled at him, happy he felt the same way, and looped her arm through his. The loss of contact now felt as disconcerting as their original predicament.<p>

"Thank you Harry. Don't worry. We will see each other again tomorrow." Fleur meant to sound reassuring, but she guessed even she was affected by their swift separation. They walked mostly in silence back to her carriage and paused at the door.

"Good night Fleur." Harry whispered, not wanting to disturb any of the carriage's inhabitants. Fleur squeezed Harry's arm in response.

"Good night 'arry." She whispered. Fleur hesitated for a moment, gazing up at Harry. It was hard to make out his green eyes in the gathering darkness, for his face was swathed in shadows. Swallowing down the sudden butterflies, Fleur leaned up and pressed a feather-light kiss to Harry's cheek. She paused long enough to take in his stunned expression, before turning and hurrying into her carriage. Inside, she smiled happily to herself. If not for that little kiss, she might have felt bereft now that Harry was no longer by her side...but it was hard to feel sad and disconcerted when her heart was pounding with joy and nerves.

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><p>Harry stood staring at the carriage in shock for several minutes, his green eyes wide as his mind replayed Fleur's soft kiss over and over again. He swallowed, and brought shaking fingers up to his cheek. A sigh escaped him, and he turned to head into the castle. He couldn't believe she had kissed him. He hoped she would do it again. Maybe he could do it next time...his heart started to pound as he imagined the time when he would be able to do that...would she allow him to do it? He was so lost in thought, he barely remembered his trek up to his common room.<p>

Harry's elation over his night out with Fleur quickly turned into despair when he realized upon reaching Gryffindor Tower that he had left his Firebolt down by the lake…and that the light was still on in his dormitory. Which could only mean the other boys were waiting to interrogate him. Get the Firebolt first, or face his mates? Decision made, Harry quickly turned around to find his broom.

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><p><strong>Greye's Notes:<strong>

Hey all! Yes, it has been a long time…again. I'm sorry. I'm a slow writer at best, alas. I do hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was a little fluffy, I know, but I thought we should have a little fluff since this was the big reunion! Next chapter will probably get us working towards the more serious Goblet stuff.

Anyway, another note for you guys. I will be trying to crank out more chapters this next month partly because I now have a little more time on my hands, but also because I've joined AmeriCorps and will be leaving in a couple months. I don't know how much I will be able to update while serving, so I thought it would be fair if I left you guys with as much as I could write. That being said, thank you to everyone who has stuck with me thus far, and to those of you who PMed me, reminding me to get my butt in gear! I do appreciate it. I continue to be blown away by the reviews, follows, and favorites. You guys are amazing, never forget it.

If you're into weird Harry Potter pairings, check out **Moon's Lullaby**. She does some odd ones for any of you out there with a craving!


	12. Perhaps a Solution

**Quick Notes: **Hey guys, just a reminder. Not everything will be canon—this is at least partially AU after all. So some details will change, and I'll probably leave some things out. If you've noticed, I've already blended several things from the books and movies (like the arrival of Beauxbatons) So just try to enjoy this as a story without worrying too much about the particulars. Like when exactly Harry learned Stupefy.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own anything but my own sad mind.

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><p>"You missed <em>everything<em> Harry!" Ron exclaimed. They were walking through the corridors headed outside for Care of Magical Creatures. Even though he had finally been able to see Fleur again, Harry thought glumly, he still had classes to attend. He glanced over at Ron, barely listening.

"What?" His brow furrowed as he worked himself into the conversation. Harry had waited until late to sneak back into his dormitory the night before—he'd wanted to avoid an interrogation from the other boys. Now though he was feeling tired, and regretting his decision to not just get the whole thing over with. At least Ron didn't seem to be in an asking mood. Yet.

Ron rolled his eyes and cuffed Harry on the shoulder. "Bloody hell Harry. Have you not been listening? I was telling you about what you missed last night! You and Fleur never came back!" Ron's eyes became a little glassy when he said Fleur's name, but Harry couldn't bring himself to feel put off. Ron was his best friend, after all, and Fleur was…well. Fleur.

"Just tell me again. I'm listening now." Harry requested. He really did need to be a better friend. Now that Fleur was here, maybe he could be. Ron rolled his eyes again, but obliged.

He filled Harry in on the arrival of the Goblet and the commencement of the Tournament. "Ludo Bagman was there Harry, and Barty Crouch from the Ministry!" Ron's blue eyes got very wide and excited. "Best of all…" his voice was hushed as he gazed at Harry fervently, "from Durmstrang…Viktor Krum! _The_ Viktor Krum Harry! He's _here_! At Hogwarts!" Ron's fists were balled in excitement. "I can't believe it!" Harry grinned, wanting to join in Ron's excitement.

A snotty voice sounded behind them, "Yes Weasel. Krum's here—have yourself an orgasm why don't you." Harry turned and glared full on at Draco Malfoy and his laughing cronies.

"Malfoy," sneered Harry, "Should have known you'd want another reason to get your mouth washed out. Seems you love the taste of soap—get that from your filthy father?" Harry would have laughed at Draco's confused expression, but he acted instead. He whipped his wand out and muttered _Lavatio Ore_. Draco's big mouth was suddenly full as a white bar of soap appeared between his teeth. The boy immediately started choking as he worked to get it out. Now Harry laughed, "Maybe now you'll learn to watch your mouth." As Harry turned, he saw Ron gazing at him in astonishment and admiration. Before he could say anything though, he ran into Snape. Damn. Seems he forgot they were still in the castle…and that certain Potion's professors had an irritating penchant for showing up at the exact WRONG moment.

"Going somewhere Potter?" Snape's voice was low, with a distinct thread of malevolence in it. The Potions Master gazed down at him in disdain; a look Harry was all too familiar with. How, he asked himself inwardly, was Snape always around to catch him like this?

"Erm, I was going to Care of Magical Creatures…" Harry responded hesitantly. No need to take a flippant tone now…it would only land him in more trouble than he cared to be in at the moment. Snape was gazing at him in triumph, and Harry had a sinking feeling.

Snape's pleased tone proved it a second later. "Perhaps…but I think Mr. Potter you will also be joining me for detention in the dungeons tonight. Don't be late." Snape swept away before Harry could protest, black robes swirling about him as he passed Draco, giving the boy a faint smile as he did. Once Snape had passed on, Draco tried sneering at Harry and Ron again, but they ignored him.

Care of Magical Creatures went quickly that day. Harry wasn't paying much attention though, and received a burn from his skrewt for his carelessness. At one point Ron leaned over when they were out of earshot of the others to ask him, "So where'd you learn that spell?"

Harry just grinned and whispered, "Your mother." Ron's ears turned pink, and they didn't speak much during the rest of the lesson.

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><p>As the day wore on, Harry found himself thinking increasingly about Fleur and the little sojourn they'd shared the night before. It had been so good to finally be with her physically, like the pressure that had been building inside of him had finally been released. Now he didn't feel the insanely pressing need to be with her. At least, not like he had before. The Bond felt more muted now, somehow, reminiscent of the first days he'd sensed it. It seemed like, now that they were together—sort of—the Bond didn't need to be as active.<p>

Strangely Harry felt both relieved and disappointed.

He found himself hoping to catch a glimpse of Fleur throughout the day, but he never did. He noticed a number of other Beauxbatons students wandering around, and a few from Durmstrang, but never the silvery haired beauty that had so often occupied his thoughts the last couple months.

It was with some trepidation and excitement that he entered the Great Hall for dinner that night. At last he would see Fleur again…and maybe get an idea of where they stood with one another.

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><p>Fleur was frustrated. Every attempt she had made to seek out Harry today had been thwarted. Mostly by Madame Maxime but other times by coincidence. She just wanted to talk to him, to see him—like a normal person, and not because the Bond was forcing them together. It seemed she wouldn't get that chance though. Not if her headmistress had her way.<p>

"Fleur, you cannot be with this boy. He will distract you, and we cannot have that! Not when the pride of Beauxbatons is at stake!" Madame Maxime had boomed at her early, when Fleur had tried to slip away during lunch to find Harry. "If you make this difficult, I will be forced to confine you to the carriage." Madame Maxime had finished, and Fleur had trouble keeping the horror from her face at this proclamation. "Do you understand?"

Fleur had been forced to nod. "Yes, I understand." She responded bitterly, not meeting the woman's eyes. This meant exploring her connection with Harry would be exceedingly difficult. She went back to her studies reluctantly, determined not to miss dinner and her last chance to see Harry before the day ended. She wanted to know how he was faring after the night before. Had he been made fun of? She had certainly been on the receiving end of several disdainful looks and sniggers from her classmates. She hoped Harry had not had a similar experience.

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><p>Walking into the Great Hall, Harry felt his eyes immediately slide over toward the Ravenclaw table, where he spotted a familiar blue-clad girl whose very presence made him feel hot and cold at the same time. He smiled. "Fleur." He murmured. Almost as if she could hear him, he saw her look up and around. Perhaps it was a little perk of the Bond, he thought, being able to spot each other in a crowded room. Ignoring the questions of his friends, Harry headed over to where Fleur was sitting.<p>

"Hey Fleur." He said quietly, pleased to find a spot beside her open. He sat down next to her. He would have to move soon back to the Gryffindor table (for the start of the meal), but for now he had a few minutes to talk to Fleur.

"Harry." Fleur responded, her blue eyes flashing with relief and what Harry could only recognize as worry. He noticed her hands were clenched tightly in her lap, and her eyes kept shifting to the head table where the professors sat.

Unsure of himself, Harry slid a little closer to her and lowered his voice. "What's wrong?" he asked. His concern was evident, and Fleur looked at him gratefully. Even if they weren't dating, their connection made it pretty much impossible not to care about each other. And Fleur could tell that Harry was just that kind of person anyway.

"It's my headmistress," Fleur explained quietly, "She does not want us together. At all. She told me if it gets too much, she will confine me to the carriage until after the tournament." Her voice was resigned, and nervous. "Harry—I don't want last night to be the only time I get to spend with you." Her eyes had a hard time finding Harry's; her heart was pounding so loudly she thought he must be able to hear it. A warm hand took hers, and Fleur started, her eyes coming up unintentionally to meet Harry's blazing green ones.

"No way Fleur. We're not going to let anything stop us from figuring this whole thing out!" Harry felt riled up. How dare her headmistress make an ultimatum like that? This was his bondma-erm, friend. Could he at least think of her as a friend? He thought that was alright. There was magic connecting them now that they needed to understand, and instead of helping them this woman was putting her own agenda before the needs of her student.

He gazed intently at Fleur, only dimly registering the faint blush on her cheeks at his sudden vehemence. "We'll figure this out Fleur. If she tries to separate us, trust me—I will find a way. It is our right to be near each other now…isn't it?" His voice up to this point had been steady, but now it faltered. Maybe Fleur didn't actually want to spend much time with him? He certainly didn't want to be as bad as Madame Maxime and force his presence on her…his heart felt a pang at that thought. The cool hand in his own was now gripping his hand fiercely, and Harry looked up to see sapphire eyes that had been unsure, but now were full of the same intensity he himself had just displayed.

"You're right Harry. It is our right. _We_ will find a way." Now it was Harry's turn to blush, and he reluctantly stood from his spot beside Fleur as he saw Dumbledore stand from the corner of his eye.

"I have to go back to my table…but wait for me after supper tonight. I want to ask you something." Harry gave Fleur a parting smile that warmed them both and which was eagerly returned, before departing back to his table. He slipped into the spot saved for him by Ron and his other mates and waited for Dumbledore to signal that supper had begun.

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><p>Harry had been equal parts anxious and excited all supper. He was having a hard time getting his food down—nerves were tying his stomach up in knots. Realistically, he knew he had little cause for worry with his plan, but he couldn't help it. Hermione was exasperated, and Ron was oblivious.<p>

Finally, Harry's bushy haired friend could take it no longer. She set her goblet down with a little more force than necessary and glared at Harry. Harry, though a good several inches taller than his friend now, cowered under that gaze.

"Harry," Hermione began, looking at him intensely, "What on earth is the matter with you? I've been trying to have a conversation with you all this time, and you keep going somewhere else." When Harry just looked confused, she sighed. "In your head. You're going somewhere in your head."

Harry's eyes cleared, and he looked a little sheepish. "I'm sorry Hermione. I just have something to ask Fleur after dinner…" His cheeks turned pink. Now both of his friends were watching him with interest, and a little concern. "It's got me nervous, that's all."

Hermione leaned forward and took Harry's hand in her own, her eyes urgent. She glanced around before lowering her voice so that only Harry and Ron would hear her. "Harry…" she paused, double checking no one else was paying them any mind, "You're not…I know it's not my business, but you're not planning on asking her to…to marry you, are you?" Her voice was quiet, but so serious, so earnest, that Harry just stared at her.

He stared at her for a full minute, before bursting into laughter. Hermione sat back, looking miffed, but that only made it funnier to Harry. Ron thumped him on the back and smiled a little too, earning a glare of his own from Hermione. "Look Hermione," Harry gasped after he had regained his composure, "Fleur and I barely know each other. I'm not going to ask her to marry me, Bond or no Bond." Hermione seemed satisfied, and turned back to her meal primly. Harry shot his friends a playful look. "Besides, give me a little credit. If I'm going to ask a girl to marry me, it's not going to be after dinner in the Great Hall." Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes.

"Honestly," she muttered, "I was just trying to look out for you." Harry shook his head but smiled kindly at her until he was sure she wasn't really mad. He also magnanimously refrained from reminding her that he was only fourteen, no matter how old he may look. Ron laughed and turned to get back into a conversation Seamus and Dean were having about the Cannons. And Harry just sat bemusedly looking at the half eaten food on his plate.

But…being married to Fleur… Harry shivered. Perhaps that wouldn't be such a bad thing at all.

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><p>Supper couldn't end soon enough for Harry. It was all he could do once the plates were cleared to walk out of the hall like a normal person instead of sprinting out the great doors.<p>

Once out, he stood to the side of the doors as students exited to return to their dorms or whatever pursuits they fancied, green eyes casting back and forth in an effort to find Fleur. A tightening in his chest caused Harry to shift his gaze left. His eyes immediately found what they were searching for, and he grinned when he saw sapphire orbs watching him in return. As Fleur drew nearer, Harry deftly leaned into the crowd and took her hand, pulling her discreetly into the shadows behind an old statue. Nerves hit him as soon as they were alone, and he released her hand…afraid that his was sweaty. "Hey." He managed, somewhat shakily.

Fleur, for her part, had felt her heart begin to race when she spotted Harry looking for her. The smile that curved her lips when he saw her was meant only for him, as she somehow knew that the bright light in his eyes now was only for her. She gasped when he took her hand, but followed him willingly. Fleur had a feeling she would follow Harry Potter willingly to the ends of the Earth. She tsked inwardly at her own foolish thoughts. Surely she could do better than that? Bringing her focus back on Harry, she watched him curiously. She could practically feel the nerves rolling off of him in waves and smiled faintly in amusement even as her delicate brows drew down in curiosity. She wondered what he could possibly want to ask her that would make him so nervous.

Harry, for his part, was having a hard time meeting Fleur's gaze now. For all his plans, in the moment now he felt foolish. This was going to end badly, he quailed inwardly. Nevertheless, Harry Potter never backed down from a challenge (however unintentional that trait may be). He squared his shoulders and brought his eyes back up to Fleur's. "Erm…" Harry cleared his throat and took a breath before trying again.

"Fleur…I don't know if you know much about Hogsmeade, but here at Hogwarts we students are allowed to visit on the weekends…" His voice trailed off and he watched as Fleur's expression became tinged with confusion. She wasn't sure where exactly he was going with this.

Harry swallowed and gathered his courage. "I figure Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students will be encouraged to visit too and so I was wondering…if you would like to come with me this weekend to Hogsmeade?" He hunched his shoulders a bit, as though preparing to ward off a blow, even as he saw Fleur's eyes brighten in pleasant surprise.

She smiled widely at him. "Harry, of course I would love to go with you!" The idea of getting to spend a whole day with Harry made her stomach flutter with excitement. She wondered if he meant it as a date…could she dare to hope? Even as she started thinking of the things they might get to do together, a crashing reality presented itself. "Oh no, Harry, how will we go? Madame Maxime would never let me go if she knew that you were also going!" Well, thought Fleur, there went that plan. She felt immeasurably disappointed.

Harry though, was grinning like a cat in the cream.

"Not to worry, I've got a plan!" He glanced around to make sure that they were indeed alone now, and drew closer yet to Fleur so that he could speak more quietly of his idea. Fleur's drew a breath in at their sudden proximity, and gazed breathlessly up at Harry, even as he met her eyes with a breathless gaze of his own. It took Harry a moment to find his voice again. Fleur was just that beautiful. "You can go the normal way to Hogsmeade. I know a back way, and I can sneak out there and meet you. Why don't you go with Ron and Hermione? They can show you where I'll come out, and then I can join you. With Madame Maxime here…it can be just you and me." This last came out a little bashfully, and Harry glanced away nervously.

Fleur thought over his idea and smiled, stepping slowly back into his line of sight. "I like this plan of yours, Harry Potter. This is the perfect chance for us to…get to know each other better." Hesitantly, she reached out and let her fingers gather some of his shirt material around his side, craving the closeness, but unable to breach the physical barrier.

Harry caught her hand, and felt a quiet sigh escape his lips as his fingers seemingly laced through hers instinctively. It felt so good to hold her hand again. "That was my thought too," he murmured. They really did need a chance to spend some time together. Reluctantly, Harry knew he had to go. Snape would be waiting for him in the dungeons. He squeezed Fleur's hand in his for a moment, his heart feeling light when he caught her smile. She was going with him to Hogsmeade this weekend, he thought, his heart beat accelerating with excitement. It was hard not to practically quiver with joy. She had said yes! Not even detention with Snape could ruin this moment.

"I wish I could stay here with you, but I have detention. I will see you tomorrow." Harry paused before releasing Fleur's fingers, and slowly, haltingly placed a kiss on her cheek, dangerously close to the corner of her mouth. His lips burned from the contact, and he knew he'd had the same effect on Fleur when she gasped in response, a light blush dusting her cheeks.

Fleur only reluctantly let her fingers part from Harry's, her other hand coming to rest on the place his lips had been a moment before. She could still feel them on her face, and she smiled as he walked away, happy that he had initiated it. As he rounded a corner she frowned. "Wait…detention?" Fleur knew she'd have to ask him about it at the next opportunity.

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><p><strong>Greye's Notes:<strong> Agggg! So much for posting more frequently. Sorry guys. Hope you liked this chapter! Next chapter: The outcome of Harry's detention, Hogsmeade, and…perhaps the truth of Fleur's tournament predicament!


	13. Truths Uncovered

**Note:** So…in response to the three page review I received… Well, I don't really know what to say there. I'm sorry you seem to truly dislike my fic, but you are the one who just wasted who knows how long writing all of that! About a "stupidly ridiculous…fluffed up trumped up angsty heart thumping heart stopping longingly romantic overblown" story, too. I mean…really?

To all of my reviewers (even peeps who don't like my story), I do appreciate the time you take to drop me a few lines. I hope you enjoy this latest installment! Also, again please take note that things will get pretty AU! I'll still have a few nods to canon, but things will happen differently. (Like way differently...)

**Disclaimer: **Alas! Harry Potter and all its trappings are not mine.

**References from previous chapters:** Remember in the beginning, when Harry met Fleur's dad Jefferoi? To thank Harry for helping Fleur in the aftermanth of the Cup, Jefferoi present Harry with a special card. When that card was presented to a French witch or wizard, it required them to render whatever aid they could to Harry.

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><p>Harry's heart thumped wildly in his chest as he eased through Honeydukes' basement. He had used the secret passage between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade to arrive today—all to escape Fleur's overbearing headmistress. He hadn't brought his cloak, as he wasn't really hiding, but he still didn't want to get caught where he didn't belong.<p>

Listening carefully to the throng of students walking around above, he eased his way up the stairs and slid into the crowd with none the wiser of his sudden appearance. He breathed a sigh of relief when he made it outside, tugging his coat tighter round him as the cool winter air bit into his face. While it was a little irritating to have to go to these lengths just to spend time with Fleur, Harry did have to admit it was a little exciting. With a grin, he headed to the Three Broomsticks where he knew that Fleur and his two best friends were waiting for him.

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><p>Fleur sat somewhat awkwardly in the Three Broomsticks. She currently shared a booth with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger—Harry's best friends. They had easily agreed to walk with Fleur down to Hogsmeade in Harry's place, which they (Harry and Fleur) both appreciated, but Fleur wasn't entirely sure how welcome she actually was.<p>

Ron, for his part, didn't seem to care too much one way or another. She _did_ catch him staring at her a handful of times, but these types of stares Fleur was used to—and he was enough of a gentleman to stop when he realized he was doing it. Veela magic—temperamental and often difficult to control. He hadn't said much on their way from the castle, which rather surprised Fleur because everything she had heard from Harry in her letters seemed to indicate that he was usually very talkative. Her gaze shifted to Hermione.

"So…" Fleur began, somewhat uncertain. She wanted to be friends with Harry's friends, but she wasn't sure exactly the way to go about it—especially considering the slight attitude Hermione had shown Fleur on their walk down. It had bordered on animosity though, to the girl's credit, she had not been in any way rude or hateful:

"_Fleur," Hermione began as soon as they were far enough from other students that the risk of eavesdropping was minimal, "I want to know right now what your intentions are with Harry. I know that your Veela magic has enacted a Bond between you, but I need to know more than that. Harry hasn't really explained what that means for both of you—apart from his obvious growth spurt." Her tone was no-nonsense, typical Hermione. Ron didn't seem flustered by her words or tone, so Fleur decided to take that to mean that Hermione was like this a lot._

_She took a few moments to consider carefully Hermione's question, not wanting the younger witch to feel as though she did not take the situation seriously. Still, the answer came easily enough. "To be perfectly honest, Hermione, I do not have any intentions toward Harry right now. We both just want a chance to get to know each other better—in person, rather than in letter. The magic between us fairly demands it, but as I see more of your friend, I find myself wanting that more and more too." Fleur trailed off, feeling pensive. When she felt Hermione's brown eyes boring into her with another question, Fleur held up a hand._

"_Hermione, let me try to set you at ease here." Fleur took a breath, pausing as she swerved around a shrub as they continued to walk. She could see Hogsmeade now in the distance—they would be there soon, and this needed to be said. "I have no intent to hurt Harry, just as I know he has no desire to hurt me. This is new for both of us. What it means? We are just two people, who now have an extraordinary connection that pulls us together. We'll have to figure out what we want to do on our own, but we haven't spent nearly enough time together for me to give you a more accurate answer." Fleur glanced at Ron then, who seemed to be following her words with interest, before looking back at Hermione again. _

_Hermione's eyes were filled with uncertainty, and Fleur could tell she was arguing with herself. She could tell the other witch didn't much like her, but Fleur hoped she would come around. Hermione was, after all, one of Harry's most precious friends. The things and people that mattered to Harry, now mattered to Fleur too. She couldn't tell if those were her own feelings, or the magic between them telling her so. _

_Finally, Hermione nodded stiffly in response. "Alright Fleur. I'll take you at your word—please see that I do not regret it." Fleur gave her a solemn nod of assurance. She was relieved, for they had arrived in Hogsmeade, and she didn't want to continue their private conversation when there were so many listeners standing around. _

_Ron's voice broke into her thoughts. "Hey! Let's go see Madam Rosmerta—it's ruddy cold out here. She'll warm us up!" He seemed so eager and sincere that Fleur almost felt bad laughing, but laugh she did. To her surprise, Hermione laughed a little also. Neither of them voiced the thought of just how Ron would prefer to be warmed up by Madam Rosmerta._

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><p>"So what?"<p>

Fleur blinked. "Em…what?" She stared blankly at Harry's bushy-haired friend.

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You just said "So….", and then disappeared somewhere." Fleur frowned deeply.

"I…disappeared?" She responded in confusion, tilting her head slightly, unsure if she had heard wrong.

Hermione put a hand over her face. "Oh, not you too!" She sighed. "Disappeared in your head. You started to say something, and then got lost in thought about something else." It was uncanny how alike Harry and Fleur's responses were to that statement, Hermione thought wryly.

Fleur's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh! Oh, pardon me Hermione, I didn't understand you." The other witch rolled her eyes, but Fleur continued. "I was just going to ask you about your classes—I thought it might be interesting to compare what you're taking now with what I took your year at Beauxbatons." At the mention of Academia, Hermione's exasperated air abruptly vanished and she sat up in excitement. Ron groaned.

"Now you've done it Fleur. She'll never stop." The red-head advised. "I'll just go get us some butterbeers, shall I?" He slid out of his seat even as Hermione launched eagerly into a full explanation of the courses she was currently taking, was planning on taking, and wished that Hogwarts offered at all. It was hard for Fleur to get a word in edgewise, and she finally gave up and simply watched Hermione's animated face as she continued to speak at-length about her favorite subject: school.

Fortunately, Hermione was only a few minutes in when Fleur felt compelled to look up and by the door, looking windblown and ruddy-cheeked, stood Harry, green eyes shining in a way that may Fleur's heart flutter. A broad smile stretched across his face and Fleur quickly realized it was a twin to her own happy expression. It wasn't until Harry started to move through the crowd towards their table that Fleur realized Hermione had stopped talking, and that she herself was being rather rude. She focused back on Harry's friend and gave her a sheepish smile. "Sorry…"

Hermione frowned at her a moment, before rolling her eyes and releasing a world-weary sigh of exasperation. From the corner of her eye, Fleur noticed Ron approaching with their drinks. Hermione's voice drew her attention back. "You're both useless. Useless! I'll just sit in a corner shall I until you two are done making moony eyes at each other. Then maybe we can have a decent conversation!" She flung a hand up in the air to make her point and nearly knocked the butterbeers out of Ron's hands. Fleur winced.

"Ach! Hermione, watch it!" Ron exclaimed. Harry by this point was close enough to grab one of the precarious butterbeers from Ron and steady his mate. He slid the butterbeer he'd grabbed in front of Fleur. Ron grinned at him gratefully and slid into the booth next to Hermione. Harry shyly sat down next to Fleur, his heart pounding again even though his two best friends were sitting right with them.

His shyness was temporarily forgotten, however, when Ron slid a fourth butterbeer in front of him. Harry looked up at his friend quizzically, and Ron laughed.

"Saw you walk in mate. No worries, I haven't suddenly got better at Trelawney's class!" Hermione snorted, and Harry laughed a little too. Fleur was grateful for the slight comic relief, for Harry seemed more relaxed now.

Harry turned to Fleur then and lifted his butterbeer into the air. "How about a toast then, to friendship and…"

"Madam Rosemerta…" Came Ron's breathy voice, neatly finishing Harry's toast unintentionally. Harry blinked, and Fleur and Hermione turned to look at Ron blankly. Ron, for his part, was watching the beautiful, buxom Madam Rosemerta making her rounds and was totally oblivious to what he had just done. Harry started to laugh. After a second, Fleur and Hermione joined him. Harry started laughing even harder as he imagined Lavender's face if she'd been present.

Ron came out of his daze and looked at the three of them in bewilderment. "What?"

Harry looked first to Hermione, and then to Fleur and raised his butterbeer once more. The pair quickly followed suit. "Ready?" He was still laughing. They nodded, and together…

"To friendship and Madame Rosemerta!" Harry choked on his drink he was laughing so hard, and the others weren't much better. The bewildered look on Ron's face just made it all the funnier.

Ron looked around the table, frowning. "Seriously…what are you all on about?"

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><p>"So…detention?" Fleur asked. She and Harry had parted from Ron and Hermione a few minutes previously. They were now wandering near the Shrieking Shack…connected only by a slight intertwining of fingers. Fleur glanced at Harry and raised one delicate eyebrow.<p>

Harry coughed a little, embarrassed. He brought a gloved hand up to rub his neck sheepishly. "Well…do you remember from my letters, me mentioning a guy named Draco Malfoy?" When Fleur nodded, he continued. "He was sort of antagonizing Ron yesterday…and I just kinda lost it. I summoned a bar of soap in his mouth." He ducked his head, cheeks going rosy.

Fleur blinked.

"You…literally…put soap in his mouth? As in, washed his mouth out?" Fleur clarified. When Harry hesitantly nodded, she laughed. Fleur's laugh, to Harry, sounded like water running over stones. It was light, but surprisingly rich and he felt joyful at the sound of it.

"Yes…yes I did." Harry thought back over his response to Malfoy's taunts, and frowned slightly. "Rather unlike me to react so rashly…but I guess it was just a little too much this time. And of course Snape was standing right behind me. Thus, my detention." He smiled as Fleur laughed a little more, shaking her head.

Fleur linked their hands more firmly; her heart jumped when Harry squeezed her hand lightly. She blushed faintly and looked away. It was a strange thing, that they should be so shy of each other considering their reunion. The Bond had pretty much forced them to be all over each other. While their embrace had been intimate…it had not been honestly initiated by either of them. Fleur guessed that she and Harry had come to the same, unspoken conclusion that that encounter didn't really count. She squeezed his hand back and smiled when she saw his cheeks turn even rosier.

Harry drew them to a stop by the path leading to the Shrieking Shack. He was pretty sure there would be few, if any, passersby out here. He turned so that he and Fleur were facing each other.

"I was thinking," Harry said, "That we could use this spot to start figuring out this Bond. I think we should see what it does, what we can do with it. There shouldn't be anyone out here but us." Fleur nodded—this sounded like a pretty good idea.

She cocked her head slightly, "Maybe first, we could try seeing if we can really sense each other with the Bond…and see about how far apart we can be?" Harry thought that sounded like a great place to start—and was relieved Fleur was getting them started.

"Sure," he said, "That may come in handy."

Fleur gazed off into the distance for a moment, thinking. What would be the best way to do this? "Ok, to start..." Fleur pulled her gloves off and stuffed them into her pocket, and waited until Harry had done the same. "Take my hands." She said. His warm hands around her own caused her breath to catch for a moment. She forced herself to focus. "Close your eyes." Her voiced came as a whisper. "I want to see if we can feel each other…feel the bond connecting us. Feel your heart beating…"

Harry's voice came just as soft, "I feel it."

Fleur focused inward, searching for that feeling, that connection that had only appeared sporadically so far, and otherwise been dormant. There, she thought. It was a pulse, and pulse that seemed to resonate with her own heartbeat… With a start, Fleur realized it was Harry's. She could feel Harry's heart beating too. She heard a startled noise come from Harry, and smiled.

"Can you feel it? Can you feel me?" She murmured, hands still gripping Harry's.

Harry spoke, his voice filled with wonder. "Yes. It's like, I can feel your heart beating…right next to mine."

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><p>Harry and Fleur spent the next two hours testing the bond. First just getting used to sensing each other, and then trying to add distances into the equation. It seemed that, up to about two hundred feet they could feel each other without a problem. Further than that and the connection seemed to thin, and it was only with extreme effort that they could sense anything at all. Unless, as they discovered, if one was in distress.<p>

At one point during their distance exercises, Harry came under attack. From snowballs. Thrown by a poltergeist. Harry had quickly gotten away from the mischievous ghost, but his sudden spike in adrenaline was enough to briefly open the bond between them and for Fleur to learn that he was in some kind of trouble. After that they experimented briefly with magic, and noted a similar phenomenon. While still bound by distances, they could tell when the other was using magic. It was like a sudden surge inside. They did enough practicing to discover also that they could not, in fact, hear each other's thoughts (yet anyway), and exact feelings were still hit or miss. Both agreed, however, that it felt like the bond was growing.

"We'll have to try and practice like this whenever we can." Harry remarked during their walk back to Hogwarts. Fleur nodded.

"It'll be hard to get around Madame Maxime all the time, but I think we must do it. We've accomplished so much in only a few hours; imagine what we could do if we could practice for a few days!" Fleur felt giddy just thinking about it. Or maybe that feeling just came from being able to feel Harry so much more acutely now.

Harry was silent for a few minutes, thinking. "Fleur…why," his voice was hesitant, "why _is_ Madame Maxime so set on you being in the tournament? And why can't you just tell your dad that she's forcing you? Surely he could help, since he's the Minister." This was a question that had been on Harry's mind for some time now. He hadn't felt sure that it was his place to ask, but he wanted—needed—to know.

Fleur stopped. Harry went a few paces without her before realizing and turning around to look at her quizzically. Fleur was looking around carefully for potential eavesdroppers. She wanted to tell Harry, but she didn't want her headmistress to find out that she had. The results could be…unpleasant. Finally, she looked back at Harry. Keeping her voice low, she began to explain.

"The Madame…she has something on my father. Something that could get him kicked out of office, and maybe even thrown into Tenezbon. I know if I told him, he wouldn't care but…" Fleur had a pained expression on her face, and Harry nodded—he understood. She wanted to protect him. He couldn't fault her for that. He frowned suddenly.

"Erm, Fleur, what is Tenezbon?" Harry cocked his head to the side. He didn't want to interrupt her, but he didn't want to misunderstand something crucial. At Fleur's surprise expression, Harry surmised that he should have known what it was.

Fleur's eyes rose to look somewhere beyond Harry. "Tenezbon… It is like your Azkaban. Dementors are not the only creatures guarding that dark place…and they definitely aren't the worst of them." There was a heavy silence that followed, before Fleur managed to meet Harry's gaze again. From the look in his eyes, she knew he understood the gravity of the situation.

"You have to understand that my father is not a bad man. What he did, he did only to protect me. When I was fourteen, I went to a friend's party in Wizarding Paris. It was supposed to be this really fun event with tons of kids from Beauxbatons and other places. I wouldn't know though, because I never made it there." Fleur took a deep breath, and looked carefully at Harry. She had never revealed this to anyone, but his trusting green eyes were enough to convince her that he needed to know.

Fleur reached out for Harry's hand and drew him off the path back to Hogwarts, and into the woods. In the shade of a tree, she continued her story.

"My father had only been Minister a year, and he had not quite established his power yet. There were many contenders he beat out in the election, and many of them were not happy. One of them, I never learned who, thought to threaten him. With me." Harry's eyes widened. He knew where she was going with this.

"On my way to that party I was kidnapped. Tied up in spell-binding rope prevented me from protecting myself. They…hurt me pretty bad. Being part Veela only made it worse." Fleur wrapped her arms around herself. "Two of them kept trying to make advances on me, but there was this other wizard there who kept them from…" She shook her head, not wanting to finish the sentence. "It wasn't out of any sense of pity or duty though. I think he just was smart enough to know that if they crossed that line, my father would hold nothing back." Her blue eyes rose to meet Harry's.

"My father held nothing back anyway. He came to the meeting point arranged for my return. It was a trap, of course, but it doesn't matter. My father is a powerful wizard. He used to hunt Dark Wizards, and fought in the original war against Voldemort. These men were no match for his magic, or his fury. He killed all of them. And then he took me home." Fleur watched Harry carefully for his reaction. She could see the anger in his eyes, but knew it was at the dead men, and not her father. Fleur breathed a mental sigh of relief. She had been worried.

Now she just needed to finish. "The part where Madame Maxime comes in then… I don't know how, but she has evidence that my father committed those murders. For murders they were filed away as. An untouched memory recovered from one of the dying men, revealing my father as their slayer. While he killed them in defense of and retaliation for me, a court would recognize his command of magic as being clearly superior…and therefore that excessive force was used. They might well send him to Tenezbon." Fleur gazed desperately at Harry. "It is worse than a death sentence. I can't let that happen! Harry, I can't let that happen. Not to my father."

Harry stepped forward at the sudden anguish in her tone and engulfed her in his arms. Fleur buried her face in his chest and took a few shuddering breathes, trying to calm herself down. "I would rather…" Fleur didn't finish that sentence, but she didn't need to. Harry knew what she had been going to say. "But I still do not want to be in this tournament. I do not think I'm ready. Madame Maxime only wants to get more money from my father for the school. And I have no leverage against her."

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><p>Harry walked with his arm tight around Fleur's shoulders. He hadn't said much since she had explained her predicament, and they were so close he could feel her worry. Harry wanted to say something that would set her at ease, but he didn't know what he could possibly say. All at once, an idea occurred to him and Harry nearly stumbled over his own feet.<p>

"Fleur!" His outburst startled her, he knew, but he kept going, too excited to stop. "Fleur, what about your father's card?" Harry grinned breathlessly, and released Fleur so that he could draw the gift Jefferoi had presented to him months ago at the World Cup. Harry fumbled his wand out and muttered _Revelio. _The familiar words scrolled across the card:

**The bearer of this card has performed a great service for France, and is thus entitled to aid such as is within the power of the person asked for assistance. Any outstanding costs should be forwarded to the French Ministry.**

Harry held it out to her. "Can't I give this to Madame Maxime, and she has to back off? Debt paid?" Harry was so eager, he missed the almost angry expression on Fleur's face.

"Harry, no!" The vehemence in Fleur's voice took him aback. Fleur pushed the card toward Harry. "My father gave this to you, for _you _to use. Not to use it on me!" Fleur could see that Harry was winding up to insist on using it on her anyway and backed up a step, away from him.

"Harry, you can't solve this. That card is for you, and it wouldn't work on Madame Maxime anyway." Fleur was frustrated, almost irritated. She didn't want Harry to solve this for her, even if he could. She had only wanted the relief of telling someone. This was her problem.

Harry was frowning, looking crestfallen. "What…why wouldn't it work on her? She's French! Isn't she?" How useful was a card that wouldn't work?

Fleur folded her arms and pressed them into her abdomen, feeling unutterably lonely now that Harry wasn't touching her. This frustrated her more. She focused on answering his question. "Yes, she's French. But that's not all she is. That card only works on fully human witches and wizards. No one else is required to honor it, though they can if they wish to. Madame Maxime…is half giant. The other half of her is French witch, but it isn't enough to compel her to honor that card." Harry was staring at the card as if it had turned into something poisonous.

What was the use of a gift like this if it wouldn't work when he really needed it?

Fleur's hand covered his own, shielding the card from his blazing eyes. He looked up at her, feeling a little hurt by her reaction and helpless. There was no way he could help her.

"Harry," Fleur spoke again, her voice gentler and remorseful, "Even if it would work, it would only make her keep my name out of the Goblet. It wouldn't stop her from outing my father. And she would. That's the kind of person she is." She hadn't meant to hurt Harry with her tone. "Thank you Harry, for thinking of me in this way…but right now, we still barely know each other. I would not want you to waste such a precious gift on me."

Harry gazed into Fleur's fathomless sapphire eyes, letting her words sink in. This was the only girl he had shared any intimacy with—albeit accidentally-, the only girl who could truly feel his feelings… He had magically bound all of his possessions to her already, and all that was left to give was himself. She was incredibly smart, he knew, and powerful. She was beautiful, and standing this close to her he could feel that inner beauty radiating outward and warming him. Fleur was wrong, Harry thought. He suddenly couldn't fight the urge to show her how wrong she was.

"Fleur. _You_ are my precious gift." Harry leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. The taste of her soft lips overwhelmed him, and his heart picked up speed. He could feels hers beating equally fast, and couldn't stop himself from reaching up to cup a hand to her cheek, feeling some of her soft hair against his skin. He may not fully understand this gift he had been given, but he recognized it as the most valuable thing he had ever been presented with. This Bond they shared…Fleur herself… He would protect their Bond, and protect Fleur, forever.

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><p>Fleur was stunned by the words Harry had spoken. His voice had been so sure, and his eyes were so clear. Before she could think, he had stepped closer and kissed her. His lips were soft and warm. Her eyes slid closed, and she slipped her arms around his waist to pull them closer together. His lips began to feel hotter and hotter, the heat spreading deep inside of her to warm her from her toes up. Fleur initiated movement, needing relief from the heat. Their lips moved together, and Fleur began to feel breathless. An unspoken agreement seemed to keep them from progressing further, and Fleur felt both pained and relieved when they at last pulled apart. Her breaths came faster, and she could feel Harry's heart beating sporadically in his chest. She blushed. That reaction was for her.<p>

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><p>When Harry finally opened his eyes, it was to see snow slowly swirling around them. As Fleur's eyes slid open, his breath caught at her sheer beauty. The sapphire of her eyes against the falling snow was striking. He noticed her breaths were coming faster in the cold air, and he reddened. He had done that.<p>

Fleur chanced a glance up, and noticed the flush on Harry's cheeks. When she met his eyes, she knew they'd had the same thought. They both smiled shyly.

Harry became serious. "We'll figure it out Fleur. If you have to participate, then I will help you. I know you've been practicing magic longer…but I'll help however I can." Fleur smiled at him, and it was hard for Harry to stay serious.

"I know you will Harry. I know you will."

As one they turned and started moving back towards the castle. When they were as close as they could get without being seen, Harry pressed one last, quick kiss to Fleur's lips and disappeared into the swirling snow.

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><p><strong>Greye's Notes: <strong>Hey guys, I hope you enjoyed this update! So you know, this will probably be my last update for awhile. I know—shocker! But really. Those of you who've followed my notes may remember me mentioning that I've joined AmeriCorps. Well, I'm leaving to start tomorrow morning. I'll do my best to give you guys updates as I can, but expect them to be as sporadic as they've been in the past. My deepest apologies.

Fear not, however. I _will_ continue to write. Feel free to drop me a PM if you want a more specific end-date in mind. I'll try to accommodate.

**Tenezbon: **From the French "Tenez bon", it is meant to mean "Hold fast", or Holdfast. I did use Google Translate, however, so the accuracy here may be bad.

Next time: Harry has a plan.


	14. Night Terror

**Greye's Notes:** Hey guys. I know that I have been totally gone off the face of the earth. For literally ever. As you know, if you read my previous notes, I was serving as a team leader for AmeriCorps NCCC. If any of you know someone in the program, you know it doesn't leave you much time for anything else :/ More recently, I have been getting my life back together.

To the guest who left me a review who also served (way back in classes 10 and 13!), thank you! It was definitely an adventure. I served in Maple in Iowa-new campus. Thanks for dropping me a line!

Back to business: I have been trying to finish a chapter, adding to it here and there over the last year. I know this isn't as long as my usual, but it is something. Something for my wonderful readers. I hope that you enjoy it. This chapter is another meant to strengthen the bond/relationship between Harry and Fleur.

Thanks as always to** Moon's Lullaby**, my unofficial beta and long suffering sister.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything Harry Potter related at all. Only my own characters and thoughts.

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><p>Previously in True Love Isn't Always Conventional:<p>

_Harry and Fleur escaped for a "date" of sorts in Hogsmeade, and there they were able to test their bond a little as well as come to understand one another just a little more. Harry finally learns the reason why Fleur is allowing Madame Maxime to bully her into participating in the Tri-Wizard Tournament: blackmail against her father, Jefferoi._

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><p>Fleur had been dreaming peacefully, something about a horse and flowers, she thought. But now she faced blackness. And she was scared. Fleur knew she was dreaming, but she also knew that she shouldn't be aware of that-had never been aware of that before. Something wasn't right.<p>

"Hello?" she called into the darkness. There was only silence for a moment, and then a cry came echoing back. She couldn't make out the words or the voice. She called louder.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" The darkness was pressing in, almost suffocating. She wished she would wake already. The cry came again, echoing louder this time. Fleur listened hard, straining her ears.

"_Run!_" The voice echoed around her, shouting at her. All at once she had legs again, and Fleur ran. There was no ground, and no direction, but the desperation in those words was enough to push her into action.

The blackness was lightening, and the voice came again, more familiar this time. _"Fleur go, get out of here!"_ The timbre of the voice changed, and Fleur could make out a shape in the black.

_"No. No, please. Please don't hurt her-she hasn't done anything to you!"_ Fleur felt a chill. Something warned her to stop moving, but she felt herself drawn inexorably onward. The shape becoming a figure, and the figure becoming clearer with each passing moment. The voice...she knew that voice.

"Harry?" She queried. The figure ignored her. Or maybe he didn't hear her. Another figure suddenly loomed up, towering over Harry, whom she could now make out. Harry, who was on his knees.

"_Oh Harry._" This was not Harry's voice. Fleur felt her whole being clench in fear at that dark, oozing voice. That was the voice that created the darkness. It was spreading the black with its very being-she could see it pulsating off of the figure. Her will to flee grew stronger, but she had no power over her own consciousness as she was pulled up level with Harry. Black souless eyes turned to look at her disdainfully, the malicious glint only returning when they turned back on Harry. _"What she has done is irrelevant. You know that."_ The eyes turned back to look at her, and all at once an excruciating pain exploded from her forehead. She screamed.

Fleur flew up in bed, gasping for breath with sweat beading her face. Her roommate stared at her with wide eyes, covers pulled up to her chest. Fleur knew she looked wild. She didn't care. "Harry." She breathed. She flung back the covers and leapt out of bed. Not bothering with a cloak, she raced out of her room and the Beauxbatons carriage, blue silk pajamas flapping around her. Her head still ached, but she could only imagine what Harry was feeling.

She made it into the castle without much trouble but would have been stumped from there if not for the Bond calling her on. She could feel Harry's fear and pain calling her like a beacon. She didn't pause for a moment as she raced for the staircases, letting the magic guide her forward. If she had stopped to think about it, she knew she would end up lost. Best to act on instinct sometimes when magic was involved.

Fleur raced up a staircase, jumping one step for unknown reasons and continuing on. The meowing of a cat caused her to pull out her wand, and perform a basic light bending spell to make it harder to see her-the shadows in the corridor helped make her invisibility more of a reality. This and more she found herself doing under the direction of the Bond magic she held inside, it was a strange sensation of pre-destiny that Fleur didn't like, but she dare not defy it now. Not when Harry needed help. Besides, she thought as she ran. The Bond hadn't left them much choice of other more important things and she was coming to terms with that.

Before she knew it she came to a halt before a huge painting of a rather large woman in a dress. Fleur stared at her perplexedly. The woman gazed back. Fleur knew Harry lay beyond the painting of the Fat Lady, but she did not know what to do now. The magic was done figuring things out at this point, it seemed.

The Fat Lady was becoming impatient.

"Well?" The painting said. Fleur frowned.

"I'm sorry, I don't know the password." she said, her expression pleading. The Fat Lady sighed.

"Well then I'm sorry, but you will not be able to-" An ear-shattering scream tore through the Fat Lady's words, rendering them both silent. The Fat Lady winced, clearly on edge.

Fleur tensed as the Bond's crushing need intensified. "Please, please let me through! That's Harry. He's in pain, and he needs me. I have to help. I swear to you, on my magic, that I will do no harm to anyone or anything beyond your painting this night. I so swear, may my magic forever be destroyed." Fleur felt her magic writhe within her as she swore that solemn oath. Magic would make sure she kept her promise.

The Fat Lady drew in a breath, looking worried. "He has been doing that for quite some time. I suppose...this once..." She swung forward, and Fleur flung herself through the portrait hole. A brief moment of relief swept through her-she hadn't wanted to harm the painting. She found herself in the Gryffindor common room and looked up at the two staircases that led to the bedrooms. The sense of Harry was so strong it was impossible to tell which way he was. Taking a wild guess, she flew up the stairs to the boy's dormitories. As she drew even with the fourth year's door, she heard another cry and several other voices talking worriedly. She opened the door and pushed into the room, disregarding the myriad states of dress and undress of the boys in the room. Several fell silent in shock at her appearance, but one came forward immediately.

"Fleur!" Called Ron. "He's over here. We can't get him to wake up. He's been calling for you for some time now." His face was drawn and scared. "I wasn't sure whether to get a professor or not. Maybe you can wake him?" Fleur drew even with the redhead and looked down at Harry. His black hair was wild, and his face pale and sweaty. Every muscle in his body was clenched, and she could hear faint whimpers escaping his lips. She carefully sat down next to him, her heart hammering in her chest. What if she couldn't get him to wake up?

She placed a hand on his forehead. Harry sucked in a breath and whispered her name so softly she could barely hear him. "Harry," she called, "Harry can you hear me? I'm here now. I'm safe-he didn't get me. Wake up Harry." She hesitated a moment, before running her fingers through his hair. She wasn't sure if he would find that comforting or not, but she wanted to try something. "Harry, I'm alright. Come back now, push him away." She remembered their practice the day before, and started pulling him with the Bond. She forced the connection between them open wider, and tried to push warm, comforting feelings through. Fleur kept talking to him, though she wasn't sure what she was saying anymore. She sorted through what she was feeling from him, and tried to draw the pain and fear away from him. His fear felt like a sharp knife slicing through her, and she gasped. But the pain, the pain was far worse. It felt like her head was splitting open, how could he stand it?

Fleur focused on breathing deeper and drew more of the pain into herself, shielding him from some of it. She knew she had stopped talking, and that sounds were escaping from her now too. It was a battle now. She knew Harry was trying desperately to escape whatever was holding him asleep-and she had a pretty good idea just what was doing that-and she was trying to rip him away from it. With another deep breath, Fleur reached further, and with all the power she could yanked the fear and pain away from Harry, desperately trying to help him realize what was happening. "Harry!" She cried out.

Her head exploded.

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><p>Fleur came to slowly, feeling groggier than she ever had before. Her entire body ached. Someone was stroking her hair. She cracked a sapphire eye open and managed a smile when she met familiar green ones. "Hey." She murmured. "You're awake."<p>

Harry smiled, relieved. His face was tired, but Fleur was just glad to see his eyes open. "Thanks to you. Without your help I wouldn't have been able to escape. He would have kept me there until he got bored." Fleur felt chilled. Her assumption had been correct. It was _Him_. Reality. Harry Potter was The Boy Who Lived, and You Know Who was after him. A fear began to grow in Fleur, for Harry. She knew already that she would do all she could to protect him. Fleur shifted up a little so she could put her arms around Harry, feeling comforted by the solidness of him when he put his arms around her in return. It felt so good to be connected like this, especially after the mind battle they had fought.

With a start, Fleur realized they had an audience. All of the other fourth year Gryffindor boys were crowded around Harry's bed. Which she was laying on... Her face went scarlet, and Fleur immediately sat up. Harry understood and let his arms drop from her regretfully. "Thank you Fleur." He looked at her earnestly, and she knew he wanted to say more. She gazed back at him, wishing she could talk to him about what had just happened. But they would have to wait for another time.

"I'll see you later Harry." She glanced around at the silent boys who were regarding her with mixed looks of awe, respect, and suspicion. She offered Ron a nod, and hurried out of the room.

The rest of the night proceeded sleepless for both Harry and Fleur, each anxious to see the other again.

They would get their wish at breakfast the next morning.

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><p><strong>Greye's Notes:<strong>

I might add a little mini-chapter before the next about Fleur's return through Hogwarts. She won't have the bond instincts to guide her anymore, after all!

I hope you enjoyed this latest installment. Happy New Year!


	15. Aftermath

**Greye's Notes:** Hello! It has been a while. Not as long as last time though, right? Anyway, I am sorry for the wait. I just made a big move from the Midwest to Alaska-seriously! I am now living in the bush, so updates may be infrequent. But I guess that isn't news to you, my lovely readers. I do apologize for my struggle with regular updates.

Now in response to a few reviews that have again cited that parts of this story aren't canon, I urge you to look at my summary. Parts of this story won't be canon, as I will be taking a little artistic license. Or, rather, making certain scenes possible. I hope that doesn't turn you off of my fic. Just to give fair warning to those who hold exact canon dear, I will in the near future be veering off the canon path sharply.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed my last chapter-I would be updating even less frequently if it weren't for you!

Thank you as always to my dear sister and unofficial beta, **Moon's Lullaby**.

That said, I hope you enjoy my latest installment.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter! J.K. Rowling does.

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><p><em>Previously...<em>

_Fleur finds herself dragged into a dream with Harry-a dream of Voldemort's making. Sensing Harry's distress, she is able to wake up. She then hurries into the castle, allowing the Bond's protective magic to help her navigate Hogwarts. She manages to get past the Fat Lady, and at last is by Harry's side. Using her connection to try and draw some of his torment away from him, Fleur is able to tear Harry out of the dream-that-is-not-a-dream. _

_Now, after their momentous night..._

Harry sat anxiously at the Gryffindor table, foot tapping ceaselessly. There was a plate of food left untouched in front of him-periodically added to by Ron, who sat next to him and seemed to have no problem wolfing down the offering before them. Hermione was sitting further down the table today, talking to Ginny and a few other girls. His fingers agitatedly rapped against the worn wooden table.

"Stop fidgeting." Ron finally said, swallowing down a mouthful of food. "She'll get here. Now eat something before you give yourself a crick in your neck from turning to look at the door." Ron knocked his shoulder playfully against Harry's, trying to ease his friend's tension.

The fourth year boys had sworn to secrecy the night's events, though Harry had doubts about Seamus' ability in particular to keep what happened to himself. He guessed it didn't really matter-just more fodder for those in the school who hated him. But Harry didn't want Fleur to face anymore trouble. He knew that word getting out about her foray into the Gryffindor tower would not be received well. Not that he thought his fellow Gryffindors would care, but he knew the teachers would-and she would be an even greater target to the Slytherins and other cruel students. Harry didn't want to let that happen, but he feared he couldn't prevent it. Another prod from Ron pulled him from his thoughts.

Harry reluctantly turned back to his food and picked half-heartedly at the bacon rashers on his plate. Food didn't hold his attention long. His eyes rose and found that there were several other Beauxbatons girls in the Hall, mostly mixed in with Ravenclaw, but there were a few sitting with Slytherin too. None sat with Hufflepuff, and only Fleur would sit with them. Interesting, a distracted part of his mind thought. He managed to get down one piece of bacon before getting up. Ron gave an exasperated sigh next to him, but said nothing.

Harry's longer legs quickly led him to the Ravenclaw table and he stopped next to a Beauxbaton's student. "Where is Fleur?" He asked peremptorily. Normally, Harry was a polite boy. But he felt that something was amiss with Fleur right now, and he knew that Fleur's schoolmates had not been very kind to her in regards to her current situation.

The girl tossed back her black hair and looked up at him with irritated hazel eyes. He could hear the murmurings from some of the Ravenclaws around him remarking on his rudeness, but he ignored them.

"What a rude little boy you are." She said haughtily. "I don't see why I should help you after such...impertinence." The girl turned to go back to her meal, but Harry wasn't finished. Angry, he reached out and grabbed a fistful of her blue silk robes at the shoulder, and hauled her out of her seat.

"Tell me," he said, voice icy, "_now_". He held her close to him so she couldn't look away from his eyes. Harry's green eyes were flat with anger, their normally vibrant green depths now dark and rigid. There was no give in them. When he was angry, really angry, the fury inside was hard like ice-and he literally became the calm before the storm. His worry for Fleur was rising in him like a wave, and he knew that he wouldn't hesitate to do what needed to be done to find her. Most of the eyes in the hall were on him, and he was sure teachers were hurrying to them now. Harry didn't care, and his eyes never shifted from hers.

The girl gave a cry at being hauled from her seat, but shut up when she saw the look in his eyes. Swallowing, she finally answered. "I don't know, okay? All I know is that Madame Maxime came to speak with her this morning before breakfast. I haven't seen her since."

Harry mused over the information a moment before finally letting go of the girl, who quickly hurried back to her seat. His eyes lifted and caught those of Professor McGonagall, who was headed his way with Snape not far behind her. He had perhaps a few seconds before they reached him. His eyes lifted to see that Professor Dumbledore, curiously, was absent. Ruminating over this information, Harry turned on his heel and strode out of the Hall, ignoring the protests of the Professors behind him.

A few minutes later, he stood before the gargoyle that would deny him entrance to Dumbledore's office. He knew that the professor used sweets as passwords, but he had no idea what it might be. Harry had half a mind to pull his wand and do his best to blow the gargoyle to hell, but something about the tilt of the statue's eyes warned him that this would be a terrible idea. Nothing for it, he guessed. "Lemon drops. Chocolate frogs. Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Fizzing Whizbees..." Harry went down the list trying to name every candy or sweet he could think of, pausing after each one to see if it was right. The gargoyle remained resolute. Angrily, Harry finally stopped. Why couldn't the Bond help him now, as it had helped Fleur the night before? Perhaps it meant she wasn't in any physical danger.

Well, that was good at least, he thought. The Bond itself wasn't telling him anything. He didn't feel any particular distress, apart from his own. In fact, he couldn't feel much of anything at all. Harry frowned and laid a hand over his chest. Not that he really felt a pull from there or any specific place-it just seemed like the right action.

No, he thought. He couldn't feel anything of Fleur. Nothing. Harry focused intensely, even closing his eyes, though that didn't really make a difference. Why couldn't he feel anything? Ever since their "date" and the time they had practiced, there had been a connection between them that he could feel with each breath. How had he not noticed its sudden absence? Anxiety rose in him as he recognized what had been driving him to distraction. The Bond was gone!

Try though he might, Harry couldn't reopen their connection. Apart from a reassuring feeling that Fleur was not hurt in any physical way, he had nothing. Opening his eyes, Harry glared at the statue. Worry and anger swirled through him in equal measure, and he could feel his magical power building inside of him in a big way. There was nothing for it. He met the statute's cold stone gaze head on. He was going to destroy the gargoyle. Harry took a deep breath.

"_Licorice Snaps_." A voice right in his ear made Harry jump. Heart racing, he spun around with wand outstretched, gargoyle forgotten. He didn't recall pulling his wand out, but he was grateful to have it firmly in hand.

"Who's there?" He demanded, eyes searching every crevice of the corridor around him, eyes straining to look in the shadows not touched by the light streaming in the windows. He could see nothing in the old stones lining the corridor, no silhouette in the high windows or shadows cast upon the cold floor.

A high, nasaly voice responded with a hint of sarcasm. "Why, wittle Potty has forgotty?" A cackle reverberated around him. "It is Peevesy of course!" The trickster poltergeist suddenly materialized and shot right through Harry with a shrill laugh.

Harry stumbled back with a gasp at the ice cold sensation of having a ghost pass through him. It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. "Peeves!" He gasped. "What the devil do you want?" His eyes followed the poltergeist as he maneuvered around the great columns and disappeared periodically as he passed through sunlight. His patience was already thin as thread-he felt himself ready to snap. What could this pest want?

"Wee Potty...Aren't you going to thank me? I've just done you a great favor! And all you think to do is be cruel to poor Peevesy!" The poltergeist pulled an unhappy face and floated by Harry again upside down. "Dumbledore set the Bloody Baron on me-he did! I thought I would get back at him-but you don't seem to care." He released a big gusty sigh. Harry watched him in perplexity. What was he talking about?

Peeves shook his head and shot up to the ceiling. "Well I shan't say it again! Figure it out yourself!" He disappeared through the stone, his cackle floating behind him.

Harry shook his head and stared after the ghost. What on earth had he been on about? Groaning, he struck the corridor wall beside the gargoyle in frustration. "What the bloody hell? Licorice Snaps? Ruddy fool ghost." Anger rippled through him again at this newest delay. Harry almost wished Peeves would come back. He had learned a spell or two from Ginny to send the little poltergeist reeling. (She had learned it to keep him from pinching her bum)

Suddenly, he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. When he turned his head, the gargoyle sprang to life and leaped aside. Harry shouted in surprise, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to get out of the way. Peeves had given him the password!

Without taking much time to marvel at that, Harry raced past the gargoyle and up the stairs. He was going to find out what was going on.

As he neared Dumbledore's office, he felt the connection between Fleur and himself waxing stronger. This had been the right place to come after all. As he reached the door, a sudden wave of anxiety crashed over him and he drew his breath short much like he had when Peeves had passed through him. Fleur! He could feel her again, and he knew she was not happy.

Harry forced their connection wider, hoping she knew he was now here, before throwing open the door to Dumbledore's office. "What the bloody hell is going on?" He stated, deep voice rolling out with a determined confidence that surprised even him. He decided to go with it as his eyes landed on Dumbledore, who stood behind his desk observing him with mild surprise, and then Madame Maxime who stood opposite him and who now looked at Harry with great affront. His eyes finally made it to Fleur, who was looking back at him with blue eyes filled with relief and gratitude that she was no longer alone.

Harry immediately strode across the worn, dark floors to stand beside Fleur. She was sitting down, and he rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. Their connection immediately intensified at the physical connection, and her emotions were plain to him, as his were to her. He could tell she was agitated-had been disconcerted by the break in their Bond as he had been-and was nervous sitting here before both headmasters. Who were standing, veritably towering over her. Harry gritted his teeth and leveled his eyes at Dumbledore in silent accusation, attention not distracted for a moment by Dumbledore's office which on any other occasion might have held him awestruck.

This time, however, the whirring silver instruments, bits and bobs puffing smoke and puttering away, portraits of former headmasters and mistresses, and even Fawkes with his brilliant, flaming plumage, held no allure for him.

"Harry, there really is no need for language like that." Dumbledore finally responded. "It is good you've arrived, however, as this conversation involves you too." Harry's eyes narrowed. He was like a lit fuse getting closer and closer to gunpowder, his patience about to snap.

Suddenly Fleur's hand covered his own. Harry looked down into her liquid blue eyes, and found a silent message there. _Just listen._ He felt a soothing feeling spread through him, and his blood pressure dropped dramatically. Unwillingly, he pulled his eyes away from hers to look at Dumbledore again, now much calmer than before. He squeezed her shoulder in thanks. As Harry studied Dumbledore's pale blue eyes, he detected a sparkle there-a kind of reassurance that all was not as dire as it seemed.

"Thank you, Miss Delacour." Dumbledore said, inclining his head slightly in Fleur's direction before returning to Harry. Madame Maxime stood silently beside him, but looked perplexed. Harry wondered why she wasn't speaking.

"It has come to my attention that Miss Delacour was in the halls of Hogwarts last night, in an area restricted to all visiting students." Those pale blue eyes leveled on both of them. "But I am also given to understand that she did this only to aid a Hogwarts student in distress, and so I feel no need to press the matter any further, other than to warn you Miss Delacour that Hogwarts can be a dangerous place to outsiders, if you do not know where you are going. Be careful." Harry felt relieved, and he could feel the same from Fleur.

A smile began to cross his face. "Now just a minute Professor Dumblydore! I think it is clear that Fleur was 'ere to visit 'arry Potter, and I do not approve of this fraternization!" Came Madame Maxime's strident voice. The smile dropped from Harry's face immediately and he felt his anger returning. He opened his mouth with every intent of giving Madame Maxime what the muggles call a "verbal smackdown", but again found himself cut off by Dumbledore.

"Ah, I think you'll find, Madame, that we have no proof that Miss Delacour saw Mr. Potter at all last night. In fact, I have it on impeccable authority that Mr. Potter was in his bed in Gryffindor Tower all night." The twinkle in Dumbledore's eye was only for Harry and Fleur's benefit. Madame Maxime seemed stumped. From the corner of his eye, Harry could see some of the headmasters in their paintings smirking in their sleep at Dumbledore's cleverness. He carefully schooled his own expression. He did not want to give Madame Maxime any reason to lock Fleur in the carriage.

"Now," Dumbledore continued, voice business-like, "I have some matters I wish to discuss with you Olympe. What do you say we let these young people leave for now? After all, the cup will be revealed this evening. Then you will have what you want." Harry felt a chill at those words. Madame Maxime cast a disdainful look at Harry, and a warning glance at Fleur, before finally relenting.

Harry helped Fleur up from her seat, and they both immediately headed for the door, footsteps whisper soft against the worn hardwood. Harry didn't look back as they made it safely through the door and into Gargoyle Corridor. Neither of them spoke as they descended rapidly and exited past the gargoyle. By unspoken consent they paused and took a good look around to be certain they were alone before turning to teach other to speak.

Fleur spoke first. "Harry, I didn't know what was happening. It took me some time to realize that I couldn't feel you anymore, and then I didn't know what to do. I've been up there with them for an hour." Her blue eyes revealed the turmoil Harry knew had been inside her from the moment he'd felt her through the door to Dumbledore's office.

"Me neither. I was in the Hall, and I couldn't find you. I got so _angry." _He winced. "I may have scared one of your classmates pretty badly. I just didn't know where you were. And strangely, like you said, I didn't realize at first that I couldn't feel you at all. That must have been what agitated me so much." His green gaze reflected the agitation he had been feeling earlier. Glancing up and down the corridor, Harry reached out and touched Fleur's silk-clad arm, guiding her gently into a shadowy alcove so they could speak in peace even if someone were to wander down this way. He knew he was late for Professor McGonnegal's class now, but he didn't care.

Once out of the way of prying eyes, Harry didn't hesitate to slip his arms around Fleur, drawing her as close to himself as he could. He felt her arms pass around him in return, a faint tremor making it's way through her body. He could feel her more deeply while she was in his embrace, and he found himself resting his cheek on her soft, silky hair and breathing in the faint traces of her shampoo.

They stood silently for a time, each listening for the other's heartbeat, and feeling comforted. It was so strange to think of feeling any other way now. When he had been disconnected from Fleur, Harry realized it felt like there was a huge hole inside-a darkness that gaped wide with no sign of filling. He hadn't felt that way before he had known Fleur, before he had been bonded. But now that he had experienced the **wholeness **that came with being a Veela's bondmate, he knew he wanted no other life. He could never go back to how he was before-and that was okay. Something _snicked._

All at once it felt like his mind was laid bare, and he was drawn into a swirling mass of memories and emotions that were not his own. Harry gasped as he felt his mind nearly being torn from his body, and was unsure if he had actually made the sound-if he could even breathe anymore. He floundered helplessly, trying to fight the current, but found himself swept endlessly onward. His mind cried out for help. What was happening? He couldn't feel his own body anymore.

It felt like a hand suddenly took his own then, and the rush of memories halted abruptly. Harry looked around in awe at the frozen-still pictures around him. A little girl with silvery hair in the arms of her Papa. A preteen version of the girl receiving her wand from Gregorovitch, made with a Veela hair core. So many other images, a lifetime-Harry felt overwhelmed. And then he felt the hand holding his give him a tug, pulling him back, back, back away from the images, the rush of emotion, the over whelming tide of _consciousness._

With a gasp, his eyes flew open, green depths dazed. "Wh-what happened?" His lips felt strange to him now, unwieldly. His limbs felt heavy, and he realized with a start he was practically leaning on Fleur, who herself looked somewhat dazed and confused. With effort, Harry managed to straighten up, arms slipping from around Fleur, hands trailing to link with hers. "What just happened?" He said again, voice stronger this time.

_I don't know. It was like...you were inside me-inside my head._

"Yeah...It was like I was leaning against a wall, and that wall suddenly disappeared. If you hadn't pulled me out, I think... I don't know..." Harry looked down at Fleur and frowned to see surprise written all over her face.

_Can you hear me?_

"Well of course I can hear you-you're speaking plain as-" Harry broke off and stared. No, Fleur wasn't speaking. Her lips hadn't moved.

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><p><strong>End Notes:<strong> I hope you enjoyed this latest installment. Sorry I didn't do the mini-chapter of Fleur's escape from Hogwarts. I may write a one-shot about that later. I'll let you know.

In the meantime-if canon is deathly important to you-please know this: the next chapter will take us into some deeply AU territory. Fair warning.


	16. Harry's Grand Plan

**Greye's Notes:** Hello all and welcome to my next chapter! I tried to make this a little longer to make up for the long break.

Thank you so much to all of you who have been reading my story. I am astounded by the numbers! And thank you even more to the amazing readers who reviewed my last chapter-I really appreciate it. I appreciate even more your understanding as I move into more AU territory!

Thanks also goes out to my sister and unofficial beta **Moon's Lullaby** who once again edited my chapter before giving me a greenlight to post to the masses! She does some excellent HP oneshots if you're interested-some really creative pairings!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling.

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><p><em>Previously: Harry finds himself alone at breakfast after a terrifying night facing Voldemort in his sleep. Desperate to find Fleur, he terrorizes a Beauxbatons girl before tearing off to Dumbledore's office. There he realizes that somehow their bond had been severed-or at least blocked, and manages to reunite with Fleur and get her away from the interrogations of Madame Maxime and Dumbledore. Right after, Harry comes to a new acceptance of his dependence upon the bond, and finds his connection to Fleur more open than ever before.<em>

It was All Hallow's Eve. Also called Devil's Night, Michief Night, and many other names besides. But most importantly to Harry, it was the night that the Goblet of Fire was revealed, and the TriWizard Tournament would begin.

He sat rigidly at the Gryffindor table, only half listening to Dumbledore introducing Ludo Bagman and Mr. Crouch from the Ministry. No, they didn't matter. Every ounce of attention he had was focused on the "casket", as Dumbledore called it. Within, he knew, lay the Goblet of Fire. The object which would determine the champions of the tournament. (Hermione had filled them all in on the details as they walked to the Great Hall)

Vaguely he heard Ron and Hermione talking, and felt Fleur's hand around his-she was sitting next to him. Whereas he was filled with a kind of intensity, he could feel her worry as intensely as if it were his own. Worry over what they both knew was mostly likely coming-her entry into the tournament. Harry hated that Madame Maxime had manipulated Fleur into entering. He hadn't fully understood why Madame Maxime would care so much if Fleur was in the tournament, or why she thought Fleur's father would give extra funds to the school if she competed. Harry still didn't think he grasped this whole blackmail business. Protecting her father made sense to Harry. After having met the French Minister once, he knew that Jefferoi was a force to be reckoned with, and he was certain that if Fleur did tell him what was going on-that he would handle it. But, Harry was also certain that Jefferoi would do this heedless of the consequences to himself, which he knew was Fleur's greatest fear. She didn't want to see him go to prison. Madame Maxime's role, however, just didn't make as much sense to him. What did she really get out of this? He had the sneaking suspicion that there was more to this whole plot than either of them knew. This was a conclusion he had come to three days ago-when his bond with Fleur had changed.

Harry shook his head. The why of it wasn't important right now. What was important, was helping Fleur get through this and that was something Harry was determined to do. Currently he was shielding his true thoughts from Fleur. For Harry had a plan, and he knew that Fleur would try to stop him if she knew about it.

"Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night..."

Harry gave half an ear to Dumbledore, but stared at the now revealed cup. Wooden-a direct contrast to the jewels studding the casket, he thought, but filled with fire of the purest white and blue Harry had ever seen. It almost hurt to look at. It was, simply, beautiful.

So, he thought to himself, he would have twenty-four hours to enact his plan. After that, it would be up to the Goblet what happened.

_Harry? Harry?_ He heard Fleur's questing voice calling to his mind. His green eyes shifted from the current focus of the Great Hall-the Goblet-to his greatest focus-Fleur. Harry shifted in his seat a little so he could face her easier, resting an arm on the now empty table as he did so.

"Fleur?" He queried, his voice coming aloud rather than in his mind. Despite their bond upgrade the day before, Harry still liked hearing Fleur's actual voice over communicating through his mind. And, he thought, it would be easier to conceal his plan if they spoke aloud.

Fleur's worried blue gaze shifted from Harry's face, to the Goblet for a moment, and came back. She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and released a breath. "Will you come with me...tonight? When I have to put my name in? I would feel better if you were there."

Harry's tense expression immediately softened and he curled his hands comfortingly around one of Fleur's. He wanted to put his arms around her, but he knew he should not in front of so many eyes. Dumbledore had gotten them some leeway from Madame Maxime-how, he wasn't exactly sure-but Harry didn't want to push their luck. It was gift enough that Fleur could sit with him unafraid now that her headmistress would lock her in the carriage.

"Of course. I'll be with you the whole way, I wouldn't be anywhere else." Fleur looked so relieved, Harry immediately felt guilty. He knew he had been distant the last couple days. Partly out of shock from the sudden depth their Bond created, but mostly because of his plan.

He felt when Fleur sensed his guilt, and he caught her frown. Wanting to be as truthful as he could, he addressed it. "I'm sorry I've been pulling back. I just... Falling into your mind that way was.." Even now he had no words to describe it. "I just wanted some time to think it over without accidentally falling back in." Harry felt bad about only sharing part of the truth, but he thought it was enough to appease Fleur for now. The hurt he felt coming from Fleur made him wince, but he could feel understanding too. He knew without words that she had only wanted him to be honest with her-that she wanted him to trust her. The feeling of guilt and regret grew within him, and Harry knew he never wanted to feel that way again. He was relieved that, after tonight, he could come clean. Their eyes met in mutual understanding and acceptance, and Harry wanted more than ever to pull her into his arms and feel the comfort of her arms winding around him in return.

Instead, he pulled his gaze from her just in time to hear Dumbledore's cautionary words about an Age Line, and about the dangers of entering into the tournament. He got up with Fleur as Dumbledore dismissed them, and walked with her out into the corridor with the press of students out of the Great Hall and into the subsequent corridors. He felt his friends' questioning eyes on them, but he knew that he could explain to them later. Right now he owed Fleur.

Walking with the flow of students, he kept his hand firmly around Fleur's. Harry didn't say anything as they moved, the sound of their shoes against the stone floor lost among the movements of hundreds of students. Green eyes shifted from wall to window and back again, looking for a place. Her mind silently questioned what they were doing, and he answered with a simple image before pulling her into a sheltered alcove away from prying eyes. The shadows cast upon them from the shape of the space would give them some much needed privacy. There he immediately drew her into his arms and sighed in relief when she put her arms around him in return. "I'm so sorry Fleur. I promise I will be better. I got scared. Please know that I am still here for you. I will always be with you." There was no other option for him now, Harry knew. Still shielding his thoughts, he opened the connection between them wider, wanting to share his feelings.

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><p>Fleur rested her head against his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of peace she had been missing the past few days. She knew Harry was trying to hide something from her. That much was obvious. It hurt to think that he was lying to her. Well, she knew his words earlier had been truth-but one could still lie by omitting the whole truth. She had to remind herself that she trusted Harry. That he would never do anything to hurt her. The Bond wouldn't allow it, but she also knew that that wasn't the kind of person that Harry was.<p>

She was resolved to be patient. At least for a little while longer, and hope that Harry would come clean about what was going on. She didn't want to push him now-fearful that he might pull away again. Fleur had missed him terribly the past couple of days. They had been together constantly, but Harry had been so distant it was like she was still in France. Even with the lessened restrictions from her headmistress-it didn't feel like they were spending any more time together. If anything, it felt like they were spending less.

"It's okay Harry. Please, don't pull away from me again. I don't think I could handle it." Fleur thought she would prefer physical pain over this kind of mental and emotional separation Harry had imposed upon them both. Ever since he had "fallen" into her mind-more like, one of the few remaining restraints between them had finally been removed-he had been keeping himself closed off. The sudden intimacy had startled both of them, but Fleur knew she didn't mind welcoming Harry into all parts of herself. Someday, they would truly be as one. Harry, on the other hand, had been upset at what he viewed as invading her privacy. Fleur understood to an extent, but wished he could let go of that worry. She trusted him implicitly, and tried not to doubt that he trusted her the same way. The young witch decided to focus on enjoying this moment with Harry. The doubt could come later.

* * *

><p>They had decided to meet back at the entrance to the Great Hall in a few hours for Fleur to enter her name. Better to wait until the crowd of students had receded somewhat, they both agreed. Neither of them particularly enjoyed being stared at.<p>

Fleur waited in an alcove off the Great Hall, sitting in a recessed seat that thankfully was away from the prying eyes of onlookers. She knew she had come early, that Harry wouldn't be here yet, but she had figured this was as good a place as any to sit and think. She was worried about Harry. Not just because he had been distant of late, but because she _knew _he was hiding something from her. And she was sure it was something she wouldn't like. Fleur ran a hand through her silvery hair and leaned further back into the shadows as a group of Slytherin sixth years walked by. She released a breath once they were passed, and pressed her hands onto the cold stone seat to either side of her, allowing the sensation to ground her.

She worried too, because Harry was still only 14. A fact she had to remind herself of every so often. For all that he now looked older, and was extremely mature and capable for his age, he was still 14. Fleur had recently turned 17. She had been to school longer, been alive longer, and had more experience than Harry. Realistically, Fleur knew her own strength. She was a powerful witch, as were most Veela offspring, and it was not arrogant for her to acknowledge the fact that she really was one of the more powerful students at Beauxbatons. From that standpoint, it made sense for her to enter. Maybe under different circumstances, she would have. But Madame Maxime had been pushing this on her from the start, threatening her father and...other things...and Fleur did not like being backed into a corner. Despite her sometimes temperamental nature and her own competitive streak, Fleur was not stupid. The TriWizard tournament was incredibly dangerous, it was foolish, she believed, to risk your life for something so pointless. Eternal glory? Fame? Fortune? These were things she pretty much already had, apart from the "glory", and they weren't so great. She didn't want any more attention.

Fleur made a fist of her hand and slammed it against the gargoyle statue beside her, huffing in frustration. There was no way out of this, she knew. At least Harry would be with her. Her blue eyes lifted and searched the faces of students coming into and out of the Hall. She didn't need to look to know he wasn't here yet, but it gave her something to do.

A sudden feeling flickered through her. So quick she almost missed it, but the feeling was unmistakably from Harry. Fleur got to her feet with a frown. Something wasn't right. "Harry?" She spoke tentatively as if he could hear, and took a step towards the hall.

An explosion rumbled through Hogwarts, and Fleur found herself knocked from her feet from the tremors. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw magical fire blast from the open doors of the Great Hall, a mixture of blue, white, and purple before suddenly disappearing with a vast sucking sound that echoed down the hallway, this followed by a loud _bang._ Fleur got to her feet unsteadily, heart pounding. "Harry?" She called, legs carrying her towards the Great Hall even as students streamed out of it, screaming as they went, beating at small flames in their robes here and there, or in their hair. "Harry!" She knew, without a doubt, that Harry was in there.

* * *

><p>Harry hated deceiving Fleur. It made him sick. Literally, his insides twisted and he was sweating like he had a fever-his hands trembled with anxiety that had nothing to do with what he was about to do, and everything to do with keeping it from the girl who had become the most important person in his life. But it was a discomfort he was willing to put up with. Harry was determined to protect Fleur, any way he could-and he was going to get her out of this dangerous tournament and the even more dangerous public attention. He swallowed hard as he passed the alcove in which he'd promised to meet Fleur. He was sure she was waiting there for him, and it took all of his willpower not to turn around and go to her. Harry drew his father's cloak around him a little tighter, gripped the object in his hand, and kept moving.<p>

_A few hours previous..._

_For his plan, Harry had consulted Hermione. She of course hadn't known what he'd really been referring to when he'd talked to her, but the pretense of wanting to help Fleur in the tournament had quelled her curiosity. Another lie. Harry promised himself that if his plan worked, this would be his last._

_"Hermione," Harry had asked, doing his best to make his tone sound distracted, like he was working on something else and this thought had just occurred to him. He and his bushy-haired friend had been sitting in the common room working. Well, Harry had been pretending, working up the nerve to ask this question. "Hermione, what exactly are the properties of basilisk venom? I mean, I know it's extremely deadly, but beyond that I haven't got a clue."_

_His friend had looked up at him curiously and raised an eyebrow, and Harry had quickly answered the unspoken question there that it was his desire to help Fleur. Hermione had sat back in her seat and regarded him silently for a moment as if ordering her thoughts before answering. "Well, basilisk venom also has plenty of magical properties as you yourself observed. It destroyed Tom Riddle's diary, after all, and that was a magical item of unknown power. I would wager it's as deadly then to magical objects as it is to people, and of course then there are the medicinal and potions uses, such as..." Harry had tuned her out after that, nodding from time to time as he internally put together his plan. He hoped it worked, because if it did not Harry wasn't sure how he was going to be of any help to Fleur._

Harry stood now before the Goblet of Fire, letting himself be mesmerized by the brilliant flames one last time. His father's cloak still hid him, but he couldn't wear it while he performed the act if his full plan was to realize fruition. He just hoped getting killed wasn't in the cards for him tonight. Taking a deep breath, Harry slid the cloak from his head and shoulders and stuffed it in the pocket of his robe, ignoring the gasps of students around him as they saw him standing, somehow, past the Age Line. Part of their reaction was probably because he appeared out of thin air, a distracted part of his mind added. Harry quashed that thought-he was running out of time. He had been right in his assumption that he would be able to cross the Age Line now, thanks to the efforts of the Bond in aging him. He was, for all intents and purposes, 17 now in the eyes of magic.

_One hour previous..._

_Getting back to the Chamber of Secrets had been no easy feat, considering all he had to do was get into the girl's bathroom. He and his friends hadn't had a problem using it in the past, for polyjuice potion and the like. Getting to the bathroom itself wasn't hard-but getting _in._ All of a sudden there seemed to be a much stronger staff presence in the area, and Harry couldn't help but think that perhaps Dumbledore had foreseen his plan._

_"And what are you up to around here alone, Mr. Potter? I'm surprised you're not with Miss Delacour." A skeptical Professor McGonagall had peered down her nose at him shrewdly. The professor had been on her way somewhere, and Harry inwardly cursed his luck to run into her here, not a stone's throw from the entrance to the girl's bathroom. He scrambled to think of an answer._

_"I'm meeting her later Professor. Fleur...had to go back to the Beauxbatons carriage for a little while." The Transfiguration professor had lifted one haughty eyebrow and studied him closely. Harry did his best to look innocent and truthful. He really didn't have time, nor a desire, to come up with a more elaborate subterfuge._

_"Very well, Mr. Potter. See you keep moving along then." McGonagall's voice was still suspicious, but her eyes were now tracking over his head to look at something else. Harry breathed a mental sigh of relief._

_With a nod of his head, he responded "Of course Professor." And walked past her. Harry kept moving and went right by his true destination, the girl's restroom, and only turned back once he as sure McGonagall was gone. He muttered a curse under his breath. He should have brought his father's cloak._

_Double-checking the hallway one last time, Harry quickly slipped into the girl's bathroom. He promptly came face to face with Myrtle herself. Harry drew up short and stifled a gasp of surprise. The ghost was floating a hairsbreadth from his face, studying him intensely. "Em, hello Myrtle." He said awkwardly, trying to take a slight step back and not offer offense at the same time. "Good to see you." _

_Evidently this was the right thing to say, because Myrtle's face broke into a beaming smile, her pale cheeks flushing as if with life. "Good to see you too Harry." She floated backwards and out of his way. She wiggled her eyebrows at him suggestively. "Did you come by to see me? Because you know, if you want to see me...all you have to do is ask..." Myrtle's robes half slipped from one shoulder, and Harry's face immediately went bright red._

_"N-no!" He slapped a hand over his eyes, nearly breaking his glasses, and hurriedly turned around. "I didn't see anything-I didn't want to see anything!" Thank goodness Fleur was too far away to have any idea what was happening, he thought. He would be mortified. There was a squeal of indignation behind him._

_"Stupid boys! You're all the same!" Myrtle's voice rose in pitch until she was wailing and Harry couldn't understand what she as saying anymore. Something like "Eyes, Tom...damn you!...why not?" Harry risked peeking back at her and was relieved that she was fully clothed, but she wasn't paying attention to him anymore. Myrtle swirled listlessly around the ceiling wailing and cursing and at last gave Harry one last dirty, mournful look and with a shriek flew into her toilet. Harry winced._

_"Sorry Myrtle." He murmured quietly. Perhaps he could have been more tactful. He took a deep breath, and remembered what he had come for._

_Now Harry faced the true test. Could he get the Chamber back open? He hadn't exactly been practicing his Parseltongue. Green eyes stared intensely down at the tiny snake symbol on one of the faucets. "Open." He whispered. He knew before he'd finished the word that his attempt would be fruitless. He had spoken in English. Harry tried again and again, and even bobbed his head up and down as he had done before to try and make the snake look more real. After several minutes of failure, Harry finally threw up his hands in disgust and glared at the offending faucet. Harry didn't have time for this, and with frustration born of desperation he shouted "**Just OPEN dammit!"** A sudden rumbling filled the small bathroom, and Harry watched with wide eyes as the tunnel into the Chamber of Secrets was revealed. He swallowed. Well then._

Gazing at the impartial judge that would make or break this competition, Harry focused on the cool weight of the fang in his hand, gathering a strange, centering strength from it. "Here goes everything." He muttered to himself, hefting the basilisk fang in his right hand. _This is for you Fleur. _A strange emotion moved through him, but Harry's mind was set. He lifted the basilisk fang, still imbued with venom even after two years, and dropped it into the bright flames of the cup. For a moment, nothing happened. Then all at once the flames shot straight into the air, turning a violent purple and blasting heat that Harry could feel blistering his face even as he scrambled to get away from the Goblet. Even as Harry hurried to put distance between himself and the Goblet, he saw the flames sucked back into the Goblet with terrifying force. Somehow, in his gut, he knew what was about to happen. _BOOM._

Harry was too close. That was the only coherent thought that ran through his head as Harry found himself flying through the air, landing with a painful grunt and rolling to try and avoid the extreme heat coming from the blast. He felt, not saw, the heat get sucked in once again and knew without looking that the Goblet was gone. He flinched at the loud _bang _that followed the cup's exit from their world and lay in painful stillness, assessing the damage even as he heard the other students around him start screaming. They had been far enough back for the most part, luckily. There were a few singed heads here and there, and a pair of sisters who had unluckily found their robes on fire, but otherwise everyone but Harry was unhurt. "Lucky.." His breath escaped him painfully.

_"Harry!" _He heard her voice and tried to get up, but found himself unable to do much more than roll over onto his back. Which ended up being a very bad idea. Harry shot upright at the searing pain from his back and gasped at a sharp pain that protested from his side. Then Fleur was there, cool hands on his face, soothing the blisters he knew were there. He looked into her frantic sapphire eyes, and he couldn't help but smile. She was so beautiful. He could see her lips moving, but the ringing in his ears made it hard to hear her.

"M'okay." He managed, before letting himself slump forward into her arms, head resting on her shoulder. Harry closed his eyes and focused on the clean scent of her, and opened himself wide to the Bond, letting Fleur in all the way as he hadn't done in days. He revealed his plan in all its glory, and felt more than heard the sudden stream of French expletives that left Fleur's mouth.

_Harry, that was an awful idea. You could have been killed!_ Her words filled his mind, and he sighed, sensing the worry and pain behind her words. He was sorry he had caused her such pain. Her distress was so acute Harry knew that normally he would feel it like a physical pain. Right now though he himself was in so much pain he couldn't do much more than say "sorry". Fleur acknowledged his apology but didn't respond directly to it. She had discovered the charred mess that was Harry's back. Her dismay and worry touched him even through the pain. _You're in no shape to discuss things now.__ I've got to get you to your Hospital Wing. We'll talk about this later._

Harry managed to stand with Fleur's help, but found he couldn't walk without leaning heavily on her. The French witch cast a temporary strength charm for herself, and a temporary pain relief charm for Harry. They made it about two steps before Harry passed out.

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><p><strong>Greye's Notes: <strong>AU as promised! I know this is extremely different, but if you like it I hope you'll bear with me!


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